


Burning Red

by LilyThistle



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:33:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 36,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26729734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyThistle/pseuds/LilyThistle
Summary: “I’m not sure I’m your type, but hey.” Jane shrugged, trying to signal he was willing to give it a try, nevertheless.~Jane and Lisbon dance around each other for years until Jane goes too far one day and Lisbon doesn't stop him.
Relationships: Patrick Jane/Teresa Lisbon
Comments: 76
Kudos: 85





	1. Red Hair and Silver Tape

**Author's Note:**

> For Fictober this year, I decided to write a multi-chapter fic consisting of tags to episodes I picked semi-randomly to create a connected story. I'm also doing the prompts in a random order, so the story won't be too predictable. Every chapter is a tag to one episode, told in chronological order. Sometimes, I'm going to add a scene in the middle of the episode, sometimes at the end, and, of course, some of the dialogue is borrowed from the show.
> 
> A theme that turned out to be important for this story is jealousy. It's also quite angsty in parts, but, since it is heavily based on the show, there will be a happy ending. I haven't written anything like this before and I'm not sure yet if it'll work out, but I guess we'll find out over the course of this month.

**Prompt:** unacceptable, try again

* * *

The motel room was just as Jane had left it, except for the small black box on top of the TV. Lisbon looked around, her eyes scanning every corner, while Jane sat down on the couch, then patted the spot next to him to signal Lisbon he wanted her to join him. Lisbon glared at him, still on the fence about what he wanted to show her, still thinking she was right and he was wrong, still suspecting Hector Romerez to be Melanie’s killer. But she did sit down in the end, which Jane considered to be a small victory.

Pressing a button on the remote, he turned on the TV and Lisbon’s eyes immediately shot to the live feed of Van Pelt fixing her hair in a bathroom mirror.

“What is this?” Lisbon asked, her voice strained.

Jane smiled at her. “This is how we’re going to catch Melanie’s killer.”

Lisbon took the remote out of Jane’s hand and muted the TV. She was waiting for an explanation, and he was willing to give it to her, convinced he was on the right track with this. So he explained it all to her, explained how he knew the killer was picking his next victim today at the restaurant, that one of the twenty people working there must be the killer, and that the victim would end up in this room they were sitting it. But no matter how much he talked, how well he explained it, he could see Lisbon still didn’t believe him, even when he showed her the bleach and the plastic sheet under the sink.

“And he’s going to try it again today?” she asked, looking at him as if he had finally gone crazy. “Come on.”

“Yes, that’s just the point!” Jane pressed. “He will try again because we will make him try again. Because he’s not in control of his desires. He’s been thinking of nothing else but this perverse craving of his. He’s gotten so close. He’s desperate to go all the way. All we have to do is present him with something he can’t resist.”

Jane paused and nodded at the TV. Van Pelt and Rigsby had sat down on the terrace. Rigsby was smiling at Van Pelt; he looked nervous, almost as if this was a real date.

“Something he’ll jump at, and damn the consequences,” Jane added for good measure.

He could feel he was getting through to Lisbon, could tell she was considering his arguments by the way her eyes were glued to the TV screen. Jane sat down next to her again, trying to pull her attention back toward him.

“Give it a try. If I’m wrong, there’s no harm done.”

Lisbon looked at him, then shrugged. She handed him back the remote, then let herself sink into the couch again. He couldn’t help but feel like he had just won a small victory, and he mirrored her body language, getting comfortable on the couch.

They watched in silence for a while, the volume of the TV turned low. Lisbon was focused on keeping an eye on Rigsby and Van Pelt, but her concentration seemed to wane when it became obvious the killer wouldn’t jump out from behind a tree and drag Van Pelt away with him while she was talking to Rigsby.

After a quarter of an hour of silence, Lisbon finally said, “Okay, what’s the gag?”

Jane had no idea what she was referring to and he told her so.

“You know,” she said, with a non-committal shrug, still looking at Rigsby taking a sip from a glass of wine, “You said you wouldn’t seduce me over a meal. So how would you do it?”

Jane sat up and put his right arm on the backrest of the couch, his full attention on Lisbon. He knew she was bored and wanted to talk about something, anything, but he hadn’t expected her to choose this as a conversation topic, at least not while they were both on duty, waiting for a killer in a shabby motel room.

“This is what I would do if I was going to seduce you,” he said, deciding he would have some fun with this. “A lonely motel and straight to the point.” He nodded toward the bed. “Teresa, let’s make love.”

He stopped smiling when he saw the look on her face. He wasn’t sure if he had just overstepped a line, but he thought it would be safer to go back to watching Rigsby sip his wine in silence. Lisbon thought so too, because she didn’t say a single word.

 _Unacceptable_ , he thought. _Try again_.

The moment, however, passed, and Jane could feel he was getting bored himself. He had expected this surveillance to be much more exciting than it actually was.

“You know,” he started again, “if you want me to ask you out, you can just say so.”

“What?” Lisbon asked, sounding more confused than angry.

“I’m not sure I’m your type, but hey.” Jane shrugged, trying to signal he was willing to give it a try, nevertheless.

Lisbon turned to Jane again, exasperation written all over her face. “What are you talking about?” she wanted to know.

Jane knew that he had her now and didn’t even bother to suppress the feeling of triumph that was making itself known by a tingling sensation in the pit of his stomach. He had smelled blood.

“I saw the look you gave me earlier,” he went on. “You were disappointed I wasn’t making dinner reservations for … us.”

“No, I wasn’t,” Lisbon denied his accusations immediately. “You kept going on about wanting to show me something, and I was waiting for you to finally do it. Show me something,” she added for clarification.

Jane raised an eyebrow. “Interesting that you would feel the need to clarify that.”

Lisbon turned back to the TV, signaling to Jane that she had said everything she was going to say on this subject.

It was an odd feeling, sitting next to her on the couch like this, watching TV. Odd, but nice. If he let down his guard, if he stopped focusing on the case for just a few seconds, he could pretend they were sitting in their house, in their living room, on their couch, watching a romantic comedy together. The only thing that didn’t fit into this picture was the fact that Lisbon wasn’t the type to enjoy romantic comedies. Or to sit through an entire movie without her phone going off, calling her away on yet another case.

And there was no such thing as _their_ house, _their_ living room, _their_ couch. He had to stop his thoughts from going any further, from straying into domestic territory before it was too late. This was the first time he was watching TV with someone in more than five years, and it was only natural this activity would trigger such memories and feelings in him. There was nothing wrong with that. He just needed to make sure he wasn’t taking it too far. The last thing he needed was a distraction from this case. And from his hunt for Red John.

While he was still trying to come up with another thing he could tease Lisbon about, she spoke up again. “I’m still not sure this plan of yours is going to work. Picking Rigsby and Van Pelt for this … it’s risky.”

Jane glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She had her guard up: Her arms were crossed in front of her chest, and even though she had spoken to Jane, she was still focused on the TV.

“Why’s that?” he asked.

“You know Rigsby has a thing for her,” Lisbon answered in the tone of a strict teacher who had to point out something so obvious she considered it to be beneath her. “You’re the one who keeps pointing it out. This whole thing could backfire any minute now.”

“That’s why I asked them to do it. You can’t deny there’s chemistry there. It’ll make everything more believable,” Jane explained.

Lisbon only rolled her eyes.

The topic was a sore spot for her, obviously, because of CBI regulations. If Rigsby and Van Pelt started dating, Lisbon would be responsible for either breaking up their relationship or transferring one of them to another unit. And Jane could tell she didn’t want to do either of these things. So he decided to distract her.

“Ah, I see what’s going on here,” he said, winking at her. “You’re still disappointed the reservation wasn’t for us.”

“Will you stop it?” She sounded exhausted.

“I promise you we can get lunch together once we’ve closed this case,” Jane went on, ignoring her objection.

“I don’t want to have lunch with you,” Lisbon told him without missing a beat.

“You don’t?” His voice had a light, teasing tone to it, but he couldn’t help but feel disappointed. As soon as he recognized the feeling for what it was, he buried it as fast as he could.

Again, Lisbon didn’t reply, so Jane decided to drop the subject as well. No matter how bored he was, he didn’t want to make this conversation uncomfortable for either of them.

They went back to watching Rigsby eat his appetizer, but Jane caught Lisbon glancing at him from time to time. At first, he acted as if he wasn’t noticing it, but when he finally decided to return her gaze, he caught her blushing. She looked away immediately.

Finally, Jane decided to pick up an earlier conversation topic. “Aren’t you curious?” he asked.

“About what?” Lisbon asked in turn. “What it’s like to have lunch with you?”

Jane opened his mouth to tell her that she was wrong, but she continued to talk.

“No, I don’t. I know what you’re like.”

“I wasn’t talking about lunch,” Jane clarified. “I was talking about your type.”

“My _type_?” Lisbon echoed.

“You never asked me why I think I’m not your type,” Jane explained.

Lisbon turned to him, her left arm propped up on the backrest of the sofa, much like Jane had done earlier. He was surprised by that gesture because he had expected her to shut down the conversation immediately, just like she had done with every topic they had talked about since arriving at the motel.

“Tell me,” she said, a challenge in her voice. “Why aren’t you my type?”

“You’re curious?” Jane asked, unable to hide the glee he was feeling.

“No, I’m not,” Lisbon answered, a stern look on her face. “But you’re going to be insufferable until I give you the chance to tell me, so go on.”

“I’m too nice,” Jane answered without hesitation.

This earned him a laugh from Lisbon, not a cold one that would have put a stop to this conversation immediately, but one that was loud and genuine. Hearing this sound filled Jane with so much happiness that he couldn’t help but grin at her.

“I’m glad I amuse you,” he said.

Lisbon took a deep breath, forcing herself to stop laughing. “Is this because of Melanie and Romerez?”

“Yes and no.”

“You know, not _every_ woman has a thing for violent men,” Lisbon pointed out.

“No, of course not,” Jane agreed. “Not _every_ woman. And not always _violent_ men. But you’re a bit … adventurous when you find the time to get around to dating.”

Lisbon opened her mouth to protest, Jane was sure, but he didn’t let her. This time she would have to wait for him to be finished talking.

“You like your men simple, with no baggage, and no strings attached,” he continued. It was something he had observed about her during their first week together. “Sometimes, when you feel like it, you like to be conquered, but not when the man is pushy. You can deal with men trying their luck again once you’ve rejected them but not if they are whiny. You want to make sure they are serious about you because even though you yourself are not looking for something serious, you don’t want to indulge a man who’s just asking you out because he’s bored.”

While Jane had talked, Lisbon’s face had gone steadily redder until it was burning with something between shame and anger. “So why aren’t you my type then?” she asked again, trying to keep her voice even. “Because you didn’t mention nice men once.”

Jane swallowed hard. He was beginning to regret having raised this subject because he had only talked himself into a corner out of which he couldn’t easily escape. “You’re right, it’s not because of that,” he answered slowly. “I … there’s too much backstory. There’s too much going on in my life. And I’m definitely not simple.” He made a sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “I come with a myriad of strings attached.”

He couldn’t tell what it was that had upset her, but Lisbon suddenly had a sad look on her face. The flush was gone. “No, it’s not that,” she told him, her voice soft. Her left hand twitched as if she wanted to put it on his shoulder, but she didn’t.

Jane sat up straight at hearing this. “So you do think about it?”

Lisbon pulled a face, then sighed. “No, not really. I mean, yes, sometimes,” she corrected herself. “I’ve been … wondering. Some of our colleagues have been asking me about you. So the thought has crossed my mind. But there’s just too much … I value our work relationship too much to risk it for something that might not work out. And not because of you, but because of me.”

“I don’t think a one-night stand would ruin much.” He had said it before he could stop himself and now it was his turn to blush.

Lisbon laughed once, a sound like a bark. “Is that what you want? I didn’t think you were that kind of man.”

Jane shook his head. “I’m not. And please don’t think I have so little regard for you that I just want to get you into bed.”

Lisbon raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s what it sounded like earlier.”

Jane smiled softly. “I was joking, Teresa.”

He hadn’t meant to use her first name again, he knew he shouldn’t but, again, he was unable to stop himself in time. He really needed to focus because if he kept slipping up like this, it wouldn’t end well.

“You were?” Jane couldn’t tell if she sounded disappointed or relieved.

“Unless that’s what you want,” he answered, trying to keep as many options open as possible. “If you want a one-night stand with me, no strings attached …” He trailed off, wondering if she had always been sitting this close to him.

“Jane?” The look on her face was definitely confusion. “Are you offering …?”

The first thing that popped into his head was, “Why? Are you interested?” but he thought better of it before he could slip up for a third time. “No, I’m not.” He focused his eyes on a spot behind Lisbon, somewhere next to the door. “I like to take things slowly. I like all that stuff that you would consider to be _romantic crap_ , I like to give a woman flowers on the first date, I like to take her out to a good restaurant, maybe followed by a walk on the beach. You know.” He shrugged.

Jane knew it didn’t sound like much, but he was out of practice. He hadn’t had a first date in almost two decades and even though he remembered the basics of it, he felt unsure if he was on the right track. And there was nothing he disliked more than not being in control of a situation.

“That sounds lovely,” Lisbon said, to his surprise. “It’s … it’s just not what I’m looking for.”

“I know,” Jane assured her. “Hence, I’m not your type.”

Lisbon glanced at him full of mistrust. “I didn’t just break your heart, did I?”

Jane laughed, more to reassure himself than to reassure her. “God, no. As I’ve said, I was joking.”

He _was_ joking, and he was relieved to discover she didn’t have feelings for him. He wouldn’t be able to deal with that right now, and he knew it would make both their lives miserable. He had lost his family more than five years ago, but that pain was still an open, festering wound, and he couldn’t focus on another woman right now. He wasn’t sure if he would ever be interested in another woman again. And that wasn't fair to Lisbon.

“Good,” Lisbon said. “Because I don’t want things to get weird between us.”

“They won’t.” He paused, then decided to go back to teasing her. “And why do you think you’re _my_ type?”

Her voice was full of mock-offence when she said, “I’m not?”

“Would you like to be?” He made it sound flirty on purpose and she laughed again and punched his arm.

They were interrupted by a sound Jane couldn’t immediately identify until he realized it was coming from the TV. He had forgotten that they were supposed to be keeping an eye out for a killer and snapped to attention immediately. Rigsby and Van Pelt were fighting, which ended in her slapping him. Then she was alone, walking back to the main road slowly, waiting for the killer to make his move. Jane and Lisbon sat next to each other, both fixated on the screen, watching the graveled road with bated breath until they both jumped when Sheriff McAllister appeared out of nowhere. From then on, it was chaos.

McAllister tried to get Van Pelt to come with him, which resulted in Rigsby punching him, and suddenly they were both trying to arrest each other. Next to Jane, Lisbon sat with her head in her hands, while he watched how the situation escalated into a ridiculous farce, a big smile on his face.

Finally, Lisbon stood up and turned off the TV. “Everything’s a joke, everything’s funny.” She was angry again.

Jane stopped laughing. “If you try.” That didn’t cheer her up. “Come on. That was funny. Strange though.” He looked at the black TV screen thoughtfully. “I was sure the chef would bite. I still think there's a good chance he'll show …”

Lisbon cut him off, her voice strained with anger. “The chef … Malcolm? Why do you think it’s him?”

“He uses way too much butter.”

The look on her face told Jane she was yet again demanding an explanation.

“He's a gluttonous baby. Self-indulgent,” he explained. “He wants what he wants, and he takes it.”

“Too much butter. Fascinating, how your mind works.” It sounded cold. “Only thing though, Malcolm was in the kitchen in front of twenty people when Melanie was taken. He couldn't have done it.”

Jane finally stood up too. “Well, hold on a second,” he said, a hand raised in front of him to calm her down. “There's ways that he could –”

“Forgive me if I don't stay for more theorizing,” she interrupted him again, “but I have to go try to save your colleagues from getting a formal complaint in their files.”

Before Jane could stop her, she was out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Jane sighed deeply, feeling guilty. He looked around the room, lamenting Lisbon’s absence, before he made his way to the bed and flopped down on it, closing his eyes.


	2. Red Tide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yes, you’re right,” Lisbon agreed. “I can stand up for myself. Always have, and always will. I don’t need you going around picking fights because you’ve suddenly discovered your masculinity.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the end of the episode, after Lisbon tells Tanner to get help, she and Jane exchange a nod, and I always thought we were missing a scene to explain that nod, so here it is. Also, as a warning, there is mention of suicide in this chapter.

**Prompt:** did I ask?

* * *

Two-and-a-half hours in a car with Jane was not how Lisbon had expected to spend the rest of her day. She had wanted to go over the case file again and make a few phone calls, but Jane had told her he had a cunning plan and they needed to go back to Santa Marta immediately. Under different circumstances, she would have sent Cho or Rigsby with him. After all, she was still angry with him for provoking Dane Kurtik until he had punched him. Minelli was giving her a hard time because of it. Of all the people Jane could have picked as an enemy, he had to choose one of the most influential men in Northern California.

The last couple of weeks had been tough for Lisbon. First, she had had to shoot two people in Napa County and now this case was getting to her on a personal level. She was doing everything she could to not think about the similarities between her father and Jack Tanner, between Tanner’s kids and her own brothers, and between herself and the victim, Christine, but she was failing. And she knew Jane could always tell when she was upset, which made her even more nervous to be locked in a vehicle with him for several hours.

And, sure enough, not even half an hour after leaving Sacramento, Jane remarked on her emotional state.

“You look tired. Do you want me to drive for a bit?”

Worrying about Jane’s driving style was the last thing Lisbon needed today. “That’s nice, but no,” she replied.

“You know, Lisbon,” Jane started, and she knew exactly what was coming next, “one day you’ll have to get over that irrational fear of yours. I drive perfectly safe.”

“No, you don’t,” she contradicted him, thinking back to the one time she had given in and allowed him to drive. It had ended with them almost crashing through a fence onto a cow pasture and with Jane narrowly avoiding arrest. “And I’m only going back to Santa Marta as a favor to you, so just shut up and let me drive.”

There was a short silence and Lisbon hoped she had averted a conversation about her feelings, but then Jane said, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” she asked, not having expected an apology from him today.

“Don’t tell me I have nothing to be sorry for.”

The smile in his voice made her turn her head to look at him. He had a smug look on his face, and she rolled her eyes.

“On the contrary …,” she replied, “there’s so much you need to be sorry for that I’m asking what you are referring to.”

Jane’s smile vanished, but she knew she hadn’t hurt him. He was contemplating what she had said to him. “All right then … I’m sorry for provoking Kurtik. I know Minelli is giving you a hard time because of that.”

This almost made Lisbon smile, not because she valued the apology but because she knew it was bullshit. “Of all the things you’re sorry for, you’re not sorry for that.”

She had seen the way Jane had looked at Kurtik, she had heard the contempt in his voice when he had spoken to him, and she had sensed how much Jane despised him. Lisbon had similar feelings toward the man they had arrested earlier today, but she wasn’t allowed to display them as Jane did. She needed to remain impartial and not pin this murder on a man she wished had done it, just to see him suffer.

“Yeah, okay, I’m not,” Jane admitted with a shrug. “He deserves to rot in jail. But I’m sorry for causing you trouble.”

“That’s a first. Usually, there’s nothing you enjoy more.”

“Ouch,” Jane made, “that’s a bit harsh.”

This time, Lisbon wasn’t entirely sure Jane wasn’t hurt by her comment, so she turned to him and smiled. “But I know you mean well … most of the time.”

Jane returned her smile. “You have to admit, you can’t really blame me for wanting to see Kurtik behind bars.”

Lisbon shuddered involuntarily as she remembered the last time she had spoken to Kurtik not even an hour ago. The way he had leaned down to show he didn’t think of her as an equal, his smug smile, and the words he had said to her, followed by a wink.

_If you were fifteen years younger, I might give you a shot._

Worst of all, Jane had been there and had watched it all, and for some reason she was more humiliated by having a witness than by Kurtik’s actions themselves.

“Listen, Lisbon …,” Jane started as if he had just read her thoughts.

“What?” she asked impatiently.

“I’m sorry for what he said to you,” Jane finished the sentence. “And this time I mean it.”

“There’s nothing …,” Lisbon started, but Jane interrupted her.

“Yes, there is,” he insisted. “I shouldn’t have let him talk to you like that.”

This remark irked Lisbon. “Don’t worry about me,” she told him coldly, “I can handle myself.”

“Should I ever meet him again,” Jane continued, “he’s going to end up where he belongs.”

Lisbon huffed. “Because your last confrontation with him didn’t end with you getting a bloody nose.”

“Lisbon, I mean it.” The urgency in Jane’s voice made Lisbon prick up her ears. “It’s important to me that you realize that. I will always protect you from guys like him. Even if it means that you’ll have to arrest them for assault.”

Lisbon sped up as she passed a car. “Thanks, but no thanks.” Her voice was even colder than it had been before. “I can look after myself.”

“I know you can.” It sounded careful. “I’m not saying you need a big, strong man to defend and protect you. I just want you to know I’m here for you … as a friend.”

“Yes, you’re right,” Lisbon agreed. “I _can_ stand up for myself. Always have, and always will. I don’t need you going around picking fights because you’ve suddenly discovered your masculinity.”

Jane coughed, and Lisbon was sure he was trying to disguise a laugh. “I won’t,” he assured her. “I’m not going to start beating up guys because they talk down to you.” Lisbon had to admit that thought was ridiculous. “I’m just saying that if you ever need anyone to talk to, I’m here for you.”

And then it hit Lisbon. They weren’t talking about Kurtik anymore, but about something else entirely, something she had promised herself she wouldn’t talk about, not matter how much Jane poked and prodded at her. So she put up her walls again, determined to shut him out.

“Thank you, but I’m good.”

But Jane didn’t seem to want to take no for an answer. “If you ever need my help with anything, all you have to do is ask.”

“Did I ask?” she snapped at him. Jane looked at her like a dog who had just been kicked by its owner, but Lisbon refused to feel bad about setting boundaries. “I told Van Pelt and I’m telling you: We don’t discuss our personal lives in this unit. It’s not useful and it’s not professional.” Lisbon had always been firm about this. People she worked with were her colleagues, not her friends. And she wouldn’t make an exception for anyone, not even for Jane.

“All right, I get it,” Jane gave in. “You don’t want to talk about it.”

Lisbon focused on the road again, and not on her conversation with Jane. She had no idea what to say next because she wasn’t used to winning an argument with Jane. Whenever he insisted on her sharing something with him, he was usually successful. But she had crowed too soon.

“I hope I’m not crossing a line with this, but you need someone to talk to.”

He was crossing a line with this. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she snapped at him angrily.

“I used to help people like you all the time,” Jane explained carefully, his voice and body language guarded. “People who were going through a difficult time in their lives, people who’d lived through traumatic experiences, people who were still trying to overcome a difficult childhood. And I made their lives better.”

“Did you though? You just were after their money.” She knew it sounded harsh, much harsher than she had meant for it to sound, and it wasn’t really how she thought about his past life, but she couldn’t let Jane in, not today, not when she was feeling this vulnerable.

“Yeah, well,” Jane answered with a shrug. This time Lisbon was sure her words had hurt him. “It’s up for debate whether my motives were honorable or not, but I did help them.”

“Well, I don’t want your help,” Lisbon insisted.

“Are you sure? Because I wouldn’t just be doing it for the money. You don’t have to pay me anything.”

Despite her anger and annoyance with Jane, Lisbon had to laugh. “Why would you do it then?” she asked, but her tone of voice was much lighter now.

Jane shrugged. “Because I care about you,” he mumbled. “And I want you to be happy.”

Lisbon felt flattered, a feeling that managed to erase the annoyance she felt with Jane. “I can tell you that I won’t cheer up just because I talk to someone.”

“No,” Jane agreed, “but talking about the things that bother us often is a first step to a happier life. It’s not healthy to let it eat away at you.”

Lisbon sighed deeply. “They made me see a therapist anyway because of what happened in that motel in Napa County.” It was standard CBI procedure. Whenever an agent shot someone in the line of duty, they received counselling. Lisbon had already gone through two session and the therapist had declared her fit for duty again.

“No offense, but you don’t need to talk to a therapist.” Jane sounded snidely when he said it. “You need to talk to a friend.”

“All right,” Lisbon agreed. She surprised herself with this. It was a combination of Jane calling her his friend and telling her he cared about her. “But what I tell you stays between us. You have to promise me that. I don’t want the whole unit knowing about this.”

It sounded like he meant it when he said, “I promise.”

“It’s not Kurtik,” Lisbon said carefully. “I can handle guys like him.”

“I know you can,” Jane agreed.”

“You’re going to have to let _me_ talk for a change,” Lisbon pointed out, feeling annoyance creep back into her voice.

“Sorry.”

“It’s Tanner, Jack Tanner, the dead girl’s father,” she said finally. She hadn’t even started and yet she could already feel her throat closing up. “He’s … he’s an alcoholic. And he neglects his kids. Christine looked after her siblings and now she’s dead and they have no one to care for them.”

“Sometimes that’s just part of our jobs,” Jane pointed out. “There’s nothing we can do.”

“There should be something,” Lisbon said through gritted teeth, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “We should force him to take care of his children!” She sped up again, unaware of the action until she noticed how Jane balled his hands into fists, so she slowed down again.

“Why is this so important to you?”

“My father …,” Lisbon took a deep breath. “After my mother was killed in a car crash, he became like Tanner. He started to drink, he didn’t look after me and my brothers anymore, and he …” No, she couldn’t talk about that yet. “I had to do all the work.”

She had expected Jane to tell her how sorry he was, but instead he said, “That’s not all though, is it?”

“Christine’s mother was killed in a car crash, too,” Lisbon continued. “I keep wondering what would have happened to my brothers if I had been killed.”

“Could you please stop the car?” Jane asked suddenly.

Lisbon was taken aback by this request. “Excuse me?”

“Just stop the car over there.” Jane pointed to a small picnic area at the side of the road.

Lisbon did as she was told, worried that Jane was feeling sick. She had been driving recklessly these past few minutes after all.

“Thank you,” Jane said, as soon as Lisbon had turned the engine off. Then the turned to her. “You weren’t killed.” It was a simple statement, nothing more.

Lisbon felt confused that they were back to their initial conversation topic so suddenly, but she decided to go along with it. “No … in the end, my father killed himself.”

She was sure Jane had known about her father’s drinking problem, she was sure he had known she had raised her brothers on her own, but she was also sure Jane had no idea about how the story had ended.

This time he said, “I’m sorry.”

Lisbon acknowledged it with a sigh. “It’s hard for me because Tanner reminds me of my father, and I want to help his kids, but I know it’s not my place.”

“But there is something you can do,” Jane pointed out.

“What?” Lisbon hated how her voice was breaking; she was annoyed that this whole affair was affecting her so much. Suddenly, she was glad Jane had made her stop the car.

“You’re the police,” Jane reminded her. “You can take his kids away from him.”

“I don’t want to do that!” Lisbon was shocked to hear Jane suggest such a thing. “I’m sure that would kill him. They are all he has left.”

“Then tell him to get help.”

It was a simple suggestion, an easy solution to the problem at hand, but she couldn’t do it. “I … I’m not good at this stuff. That’s your area of expertise.”

Jane laughed softly. “I don’t know any other person as compassionate and caring as you. I helped people for my own personal gain, you’re helping them because you believe that there’s something good in everyone.” He bit his lip thoughtfully. 

There was nothing Lisbon could say except, “I just believe that you need to at least try to help people.”

“And I admire you for that.”

Lisbon could feel herself blush. It was the third time today that Jane had made her feel like this, and she was getting used to it too quickly. She wanted to say something along the lines of, “Please, it’s what anyone would do”, but Jane continued talking.

“So I’m sure that if you ask Tanner to seek help, he’ll listen to you.”

Lisbon thought about this for a few minutes during which Jane remained quiet. He knew she needed to work this out herself, and she was glad for the silence so she could structure her confusing thoughts and feelings. In the end, she came to the only conclusion that seemed right.

“You know what?” she said determinately. “You’re right. I’m going to give it a try.” Her right hand on the side of the steering wheel, she wanted to restart the car again, but Jane interrupted her.

“No, wait a minute.”

Lisbon glanced at the watch on her dashboard. “We have to hurry. We don’t have much time left until sunset.”

“Can we get out of the car?” Jane asked, ignoring her objections.

Lisbon sighed but obliged. Maybe Jane would insist they swap seats, since Lisbon was still in a turmoil. And he was bound to notice it, no matter how well she tried to hide it. So she walked over to his side where he was standing next to the car and asked, “What is it?”

Lisbon had parked on the top of a hill. From up there, they were able to see the ocean below, a dark shade of blue that was getting darker still the lower the sun was sinking toward the horizon. Jane was staring down at the waves, small today, topped by white crowns.

“Do you feel better?” he asked.

Lisbon looked down at the ocean as well, wondering if something in particular had caught Jane’s interest. While she was observing, trying to figure out what it was, she was also searching for an answer to Jane’s question, examining her feelings closely for once. That examination led her to discover that she did indeed feel better, like a huge weight had been lifted off her chest.

“Yes, I do,” she answered finally.

Jane smiled at her, but Lisbon only saw his face out of the corner of her eye. Her attention was still fixed on the ocean.

“Told you,” he said. “So, again, if you ever need anyone to talk to …”

“… I will consider talking to you,” she finished the sentence. “But only if it’s work-related.”

“Of course,” Jane agreed. Then he added, in a low voice, “But it’s still a small victory.”

“What’s that?” Lisbon asked, not sure if she had understood him correctly.

“Nothing,” Jane said quickly.

“Can we go now?” Lisbon was feeling nervous. She wanted to close this case as fast as possible and staring down at the ocean talking about her feelings wasn’t helping her achieve that goal.

“You’re always so focused on work. Try living in the moment for a change,” Jane said, closing his eyes and turning his face toward the sun.

“Jane, baby steps.” She had opened up to him today, he couldn’t expect her to change another thing about herself in such a short amount of time.

“You’re right,” Jane agreed.

“So?” she pressed him for an answer.

Jane sighed deeply. “All right. But I’m going to give you a hug first.”

Before Lisbon could protest, she found herself encased by his arms. It had come so unexpectedly that her whole body went rigid at first, but then she felt herself ease into the embrace. She didn’t like hugging people, but this was different. This didn’t feel like Jane was overstepping any boundaries.

Jane squeezed her tightly once before he let go. “Now we can go.”


	3. Flame Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It hurt him more to hear her say those five words than it would have done if she had started screaming at him, cursing him, hitting him. Dread settled into his chest, a fear that he might have gone too far for once. “Lisbon, you don’t mean that,” he said carefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're slowly getting to the angsty part of the story because I had to bring Red John into this, of course. Also, again, there's a brief mention of suicide in this chapter.

**Prompt:** I can’t do this anymore

* * *

Jane’s clothes still felt damp from running through the rain earlier, and he was scared of leaving wet spots on the seat of Lisbon’s car. She liked to keep her vehicle meticulously clean, just like she kept every other aspect of her life meticulously in order. It was one of the things he liked and admired about her, but also one of the things which frequently drove him crazy. Especially when he was trying to convince her to bend the rules a little for the sake of solving a case.

And he must have done something wrong with this case as well, even though he couldn’t think of anything other than almost getting himself killed – burned to death, to be precise – while solving it, and Lisbon had forgiven him for that. But there she was, glaring at him whenever she took her eyes off the road to gaze in his direction. It was a sudden change of mood. Not even half an hour ago, they had been laughing, they had been running though the rain, they had been holding hands. But the rush of endorphins Lisbon got whenever she had just solved a case was quickly wearing off, and now she was in a glum mood. Meanwhile, the sky had cleared up again, as they were driving back to Sacramento from Marquesa. Lisbon should be happy as well, but the more the clouds dissipated, the darker her face grew. 

And then Jane figured out what he had done, and it hadn’t been that he had almost burned to death. She was still mad at him because of the conversation they had had about his need to avenge his family, because of what he would do to Red John once he had caught him. Lisbon hadn’t liked the idea, and the more time went by, the less she could reconcile with it. And then Jane had gone ahead and had told their victim’s daughter that revenge was a poison, and Lisbon had known he was lying. He shouldn’t have said it, he should have stopped himself, but he hadn’t been able to. Now the sentence was out there, hanging low between them like a rain cloud.

When Jane spotted an old gas station at the side of the road, he asked Lisbon to pull over. Lisbon did as he asked of her; he knew she was beginning to feel tired, and she welcomed the break. While Lisbon waited next to the car, he got two cones of ice cream for them. He wanted to talk to Lisbon about what was bothering her, he wanted to clear the air between them, because he couldn’t take another minute of her glaring at him.

But when he came back with the ice cream, handed her a cone, and then said they should talk, Lisbon only looked at him expectantly. Jane had hoped she would plunge into a discussion right away, had counted on it, because he had no idea what to say to her. Instead, she waited, and he had to come up with an opening. To bide himself some time, he looked out over the road and the open country beyond, at sloping hills and small, yellowish trees.

And then, finally, Lisbon was the first one to speak. “Why do I get the feeling that we’re always discussing difficult topics when we’re driving?” she asked, joining him in regarding the landscape before them, licking her ice cream.

They hadn’t actually talked yet, not in the car at least, but Jane knew she was referring to their conversation a few weeks ago. “It’s the boredom,” he answered. “Long car rides can be exhausting. We’re just trying to keep each other from getting bored.” That was, at least, what he was trying to do. It helped him keep his focus when someone talked to him while he was driving, and he had figured out years ago that Lisbon was the same.

“I’m not bored!” she protested immediately. “I love driving.”

“Then you’re craving conversation,” Jane told her between two licks. “It’s only human.”

“But you’re always the one who insists on me pulling over in some god-forsaken town to talk about life, death, and everything in between.”

Ah, she had him there.

“That’s what you think we’re doing?” he asked. He meant it teasingly, but he knew he shouldn’t push her too far. Not today.

“Well, I’m certainly not discussing my past with you today.”

No, today’s conversation would be about his past, not hers. “That’s not why I made you stop …,” he said slowly.

“Why then?” she asked. It finally sounded like a confrontation, as she found herself unable to keep down what she was really feeling.

“We need to talk about Red John.”

At that, her face hardened. “I’ve said everything on the subject I’m going to say.” To stress how serious she was, she walked over to a trashcan to throw away her napkin, then stood next to it. She put distance between herself and Jane on purpose, and he couldn’t blame her.

“Clearly that’s a lie,” he pointed out. He didn’t want to provoke her, but her words as well as her actions showed him how unhappy she was with the situation they were currently in. And if the only way to get her to open up about it was to provoke her, then that was what he was prepared to do.

“It’s not,” she insisted. “You made yourself very clear, and I have nothing more to add.”

“Sure you do.”

When she said, “Jane,” it sounded like a warning.

“Just say it,” he pressed.

“There’s nothing to say,” she kept insisting.

Jane took a few steps toward her but made sure to leave her enough space. “Come on,” he urged her. “I’m a big boy. I can take it.”

Lisbon sighed, but there was a crack in her carefully constructed façade. “If there was one thing I wanted to say to you, it would be this: You need to practice what you preach.”

“How do you mean?” he asked, confused by this answer.

“’Revenge is a poison?’” she quoted, making it sound as if she was daring him to deny this was really what he thought about the subject.

“Ah,” Jane made.

“It’s for fools and madmen,” she continued, “you said it yourself.”

“I wanted to keep Maddie Garcia from doing something she might regret,” Jane said truthfully. “Revenge caused enough suffering for a lifetime in that family.”

“You said it because you know revenge is pointless.”

“I said it because she is young and she has her whole life to live,” Jane corrected her. “I don’t want her throwing it away because of some misguided urge to avenge her father’s death.”

“And I don’t want you throwing your life away for the same reason.” Lisbon’s voice was calm when she said it, but Jane could see a storm gathering on her face.

For a second time, she had him.

“I don’t have anything to live for,” he said with a pained expression. He had no problem showing her what he was feeling.

Jane had expected Lisbon to look shocked or hurt, but instead she just swallowed hard and said, “I can’t do this anymore.”

It hurt him more to hear her say those five words than it would have done if she had started screaming at him, cursing him, hitting him. Dread settled into his chest, a fear that he might have gone too far for once. “Lisbon, you don’t mean that,” he said carefully.

Lisbon took a deep breath. “I’ve watched you hunt Red John for five years now. You’ve helped countless people along the way, and not because they were helping you get closer to Red John. You … you made me think there are people you care about, people who are important to you and that you would … that you would help them if they needed you.” Her voice quavered, broke, and she stopped to take another deep breath, to steady herself, to ground herself. “And now you’re saying you don’t have anything to live for? What about your job? What about the team? What about …?”

Jane let her talk. He let her put her thoughts out there, listened to them, took them in. But he didn’t consider them, not in a way she wanted him to. He didn’t even make a move to interject when her voice broke the first time. But when it broke again at the end of her little speech, when she couldn’t say the one word she desperately wanted to say, he jumped back into the conversation.

“Lisbon,” he said, making his voice sound reassuring. “I care about all these things, believe me. But avenging my family is what keeps me going. Without that, I don’t know what else to do with my life.”

It wasn’t good enough. He knew it wouldn’t be before he had said it.

As a response, Lisbon threw her ice cream into the trashcan and walked past Jane, back toward the car. “I’m going back to Sacramento,” she informed him without looking at him. “You can find your own way back.”

Before Jane could stop her, she was in the car and the engine was running.

He hadn’t thought his words would have such a strong effect on her, hadn’t considered the possibility that they would hold enough power over her to hurt her. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t meant them – he had meant every single one of them. It was what he knew to be the truth deep down. If someone were to take his revenge away from him, he wouldn’t have anything to live for. But he regretted having said them out loud. And he regretted that his words had hurt Lisbon.

As soon as Lisbon’s car had left the gas station and had vanished behind a bend in the road, Jane picked up his phone and dialed her number. It went straight to voicemail.

“Lisbon, I’m sorry,” he said, and for once he was the one struggling to keep his voice steady. “Please, come back.” Then he hung up, knowing the chances that she would listen to the message before she got back to Sacramento were very slim. If she listened to it at all.

He should have said more, but he couldn’t put his feelings into words. This was something new, he contemplated, as he started walking along the side of the road, trying to figure out how to get back to Sacramento without Lisbon. He hid his feelings well from everyone, including Lisbon, but they had grown so close these past few months, they had been there for each other, even outside of work, that his urge to keep things secret and his urge to let her in were fighting each other constantly. And now that he actually had fucked up, now that he had an excuse to let her in, he struggled with putting into words how sorry he was that he had hurt her like that.

But then he spotted her car around the next bend, parked at the side of the road, and he jogged toward it, feeling relieved and anxious at the same time. He hoped Lisbon wasn’t hurt because if she had gotten into an accident because of him, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself.

Jane ran to the passenger side of the car and pulled open the door. Lisbon was inside, unhurt, her phone in her hand, clutching it so tightly that her knuckles were turning white.

“That’s all you have to say? Sorry?” Oh, she was angry now.

Jane’s relief deflagrated quickly as he felt annoyance and even anger take over. “What do you want me to say?” he asked, climbing into the car uninvited.

When Lisbon heard the anger in his voice, hers vanished like smoke in a breeze. “I’m scared, Jane,” she said. “Terrified, to be honest.”

His anger wasn’t as easily defeated as hers. “Of what?” he asked coldly.

She let her phone glide into her jacket pocket and turned so she was looking out of the window instead of at him before she answered. “Of what will happen to you if you go through with this. No matter what you do, it won’t end well. If you kill Red John, then you’re going to be in prison for the rest of your life. If you don’t kill him, he’ll probably kill you.”

Jane’s voice softened as he said, “You don’t know that.”

Then Lisbon turned her head and Jane was faced with all the emotions he had always known she had inside of her, the ones he had always wanted to pry out of her, but now that they were there, he didn’t know what to do with them

“I care about you, Jane. I can’t watch you throw your life away like that.”

Despite his urge to shut her out winning, despite his need to hide his true feelings from her taking over, he couldn’t help but feel moved by this. It felt like he was finally getting through to her, and she was finally getting through to him, but this development was occurring at the wrong time and place.

“Lisbon …”

“If you want to be friends,” Lisbon said quickly, as if she was scared of changing her mind, “if you want more than a work relationship, this has to go both ways. You can’t expect to be allowed to care for me but shut me out the minute I care for you.”

“I’m not shutting you out,” Jane defended himself, even though it wasn’t entirely true, “I’m letting you in. I’ve never told anyone what I want to do to Red John once I catch him.”

Suddenly, there was a car next to them, and Jane, who had forgotten they were in the middle of a road, blocking half of one lane, was surprised by its appearance. The driver tapped his forehead at Lisbon, but Lisbon pulled out her CBI badge and the driver floored the gas pedal and sped off. Lisbon stored away her badge but remained quiet.

“Lisbon?” Jane asked carefully, hoping she hadn’t forgotten what they had been talking about before the rude interruption.

“I’m thinking,” she snapped.

So Jane decided to wait. He waited and waited and watched a bird that was flying in circles on the horizon, hoping Lisbon wasn’t about to throw him out of the car and drive off without him again, hoping they would come out of this as friends.

“A year ago …,” Lisbon finally said, but then changed her mind. “No, I need to start again. A few months ago, I thought of you as nothing more than a nuisance, a difficult colleague I had to deal with on a daily basis. But I feel like our relationship has changed since … well, since that time in the motel room in Napa County. So I do feel I can be honest with you.”

Jane thought back to that motel room and his inept attempts at flirting he hadn’t even meant that way. He had just been bored; he had been teasing Lisbon. But he also had to acknowledge Lisbon was right – something had changed between them in that dingy room waiting for a killer. And now they seemed to be growing closer with every case they solved, with every day they spent in each other’s company.

“Please be honest,” he urged her to go on.

“I will not stand by and watch you throw your life away,” Lisbon said after a few moments that felt like years to Jane, “I will help you catch Red John, I will help you work the case, but once we have him, I won’t let you harm him. Not because I think he doesn’t deserve it, but because you are too important to me. If you have a problem with that, you can get out of my car right now.”

Jane did up his seatbelt with shaking hands. “No, ma’am.”

She finally turned to look at him. “Can you please be serious for once?”

“I am being serious,” he assured her. Then he added, “If we catch him together, and if you are fast enough, you can arrest him. But if I catch him alone, I will not stand by and wait for you to catch up.” If Lisbon wanted to set some ground rules, she would have to accept his in return.

But she wouldn’t. “Then you’ll leave me no choice. I will arrest you.”

“Yes, you will,” Jane relented, “but only if you’re fast enough.”

The moment those words had left his mouth, he wished he could take them back. He wished he could make Lisbon unhear them. They would haunt him for years to come, would put a strain on their relationship, just when it had started to mend slowly.

Lisbon grew pale. “Jane …”

Now that there was no turning back, he might as well go all in. “I’m serious when I say there’s nothing for me to live for besides catching Red John.”

“I know you don’t mean it,” Lisbon said. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking. When Jane needed her voice to betray her feelings, she managed to keep it steady and devoid of emotion.

“I do,” Jane insisted. The thing was, he wasn’t sure if he really meant it, but he was too stubborn to give in and tell Lisbon that.

Lisbon bit her bottom lip, her eyes set. “Then I won’t help you. If your death is the only possible outcome to this, I don’t want anything to do with it.”

Jane knew he didn’t stand a chance of catching Red John without Lisbon’s help, but he was also too proud to tell her so. “Fair enough.”

“I thought you had changed,” Lisbon said bitterly, “but I guess I was mistaken.”

“Seems like it,” Jane replied with a shrug.

There was a brief pause before Lisbon asked, “And there’s no chance of me changing your mind?”

“Not anytime soon,” were the words Jane said. _You already changed my mind. I won’t kill myself, no matter what. And you’re the reason for that_ , was what he wanted to say.

“So catching Red John means I’ll lose a friend.” It wasn’t a question.

And there it was. She was finally thinking of him as a friend.

And there he was. Ruining it. “If you want to see it like that.”

“You can try all you want, but I’ll be there every step of the way.” She said it so fast he had trouble catching the words. “And I will do everything I can to protect you."

Still, Jane kept pushing her away. “If that’s what you want to do, it’s fine by me.”

Lisbon started the car. “I’m going to take you home now, and tomorrow, when you get to work, we will continue catching bad guys, and we will continue looking for Red John. But no matter what you do, I’ll be with you and I will keep an eye on you.”

Jane swallowed. He felt bile rise to his throat. “Lisbon, I don’t want you to do that.”

“Then promise me!” It was an order.

He sighed. “I can’t.”

“Then you’ll have to make a choice.”

Jane felt torn, torn between wanting to kill Red John and keeping Lisbon safe, wanting to avenge his family and keeping Lisbon as a friend. “I can’t do that either,” he said finally. “Can’t you see how important this is to me?”

“And can’t _you_ see how important you are to _me_?”


	4. Red Brick and Ivy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane looked at her curiously. “Why does it bother you so much, me having a bond with another woman?” he asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I vaguely remember that when I first started looking for Mentalist fics to read I came across one that explored the relationship between Jane and Dr. Miller. I didn't read it but when I rewatched the episode, I couldn't help but notice that there is indeed some backstory there. Anyway, this is how my idea to make this fic about jealousy was born.

**Prompt:** give me a minute or an hour

* * *

Jane dragged Lisbon into a small storage room, and she let herself be dragged, glad to finally be alone with him, glad to be away from the prying eyes of Dr. Miller. Ever since their conversation the previous week, Lisbon had been keeping an eye on Jane. She didn’t trust him; she knew he would betray her the minute he got close enough to Red John to catch him. And she had promised herself she wouldn’t let him.

But paying closer attention to Jane had also led to her realizing there was something going on between him and Dr. Miller. That was the reason she had asked him about their connection in the first place. Jane liked helping people, but it still was unusual for him to drop everything when someone from his past called. It was unusual because there was no one in his past he was close enough to to drop everything for. But then Dr. Miller had come along.

At first, Lisbon had thought, had hoped, their relationship was purely professional. But the more time Dr. Miller and Jane spent together, the more time Lisbon spent watching them, the more she was convinced Jane hadn’t been entirely honest with her. There was something going on between the two – she just hadn’t figured out what it was yet and what this meant for her and Jane, for their slowly blossoming friendship. She was getting used to Jane, was getting used to being with him on a personal level, and it had taken her a lot to let him in like that, so she wasn’t prepared to give it all up for some blonde who came strolling along, thinking she had any right to ruin this new relationship between her and Jane.

So when they were finally alone in a windowless, cramped storage space, Lisbon hoped Jane had noticed something too and was getting ready to apologize or at least offer her further insights into his relationship with Dr. Miller. She knew she had no right to anything concerning Jane’s past, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t wish Jane had noticed something was off about this case. And about Dr. Miller.

But then all Jane said was, “Okay, Lisbon, here’s what we’re going to do …,” in a voice that meant he was close to solving the case. If his voice hadn’t betrayed his glee, then his eyes would have given it away. They were shining like they always did when he was only a few steps away from catching the murderer.

“Hold on!” she interrupted him, sounding harsh. “Do about what? What are you talking about?” She had been so caught up in her own thoughts and feelings she had trouble putting Jane’s words and actions and her conceptions together to understand what he wanted to tell her.

“The case,” he answered. “This is how we’re going to catch the murderer.”

“Jane,” Lisbon sighed, “please assume I don’t know anything.” To her, this case was still a mystery, but Jane obviously had already figured everything out. His smart-ass antics unnerved her and did nothing to settle her raging emotions, those she was too scared to examine closely.

“All right,” Jane nodded. “The Morality Engine is fake, obviously. We can all agree on that.” He looked at her, into her eyes, searching for confirmation.

“Yes,” Lisbon agreed.

“And someone with the motive to cover up it’s a fake committed those murders,” Jane continued. “You’re with me?” Another stare.

“Yes.”

“So, here’s how we’re going to catch the murderer …,” Jane started again.

Lisbon interrupted him. “We don’t need an elaborate plan to catch her,” she pointed out. “It’s obvious who did this.”

Jane’s gaze turned from intense to surprised as he took a step back, obviously trying to figure out if Lisbon was serious. “It is?” he asked.

Just as Jane was surprised by Lisbon’s statement, Lisbon was surprised by his question. Had he really not figured it out yet? Did he really need a plan to catch the guilty party because he didn’t know what was going on? It was so obvious!

“Yes, of course it is,” Lisbon answered. “Your friend, Dr. Miller.”

Now it was Jane’s turn to ask for a break. “Now, hold on!”

Lisbon had been afraid of this. She had feared Jane’s past relationship with Dr. Miller would cloud his judgement of her, would make it impossible for him to see through her. Now she found her fears confirmed.

“You know I’m right,” Lisbon pressed. “You just don’t want me to be. That’s why you keep insisting on going through with another insane plan that could get us fired.”

“Lisbon, she’s not guilty. I don’t know how often I have to tell you that,” Jane said with urgency.

Lisbon took one careful step toward Jane and, to her relief, he kept standing in his spot, not moving away from her. “I think you’re mistaken this time …”

“Lisbon.” The way he said her name made her shiver. There was so much urgency to it, so much insistence, she knew it would be hard to keep defending her stance. But she had to, for the sake of the team, and for her sake also. “She told me she’s not guilty,” Jane reminded her.

“People lie, Jane.”

“Not to me.”

It was just like him to think he would be exempt from being fooled by anyone. Just because he could see through most people didn’t mean he could see through them if they meant something to him.

“I think your judgement is clouded,” Lisbon told him, knowing she was moving onto thin ice. Jane was used to being right, he wasn’t used to his skills being questioned. But she was confident their relationship had reached a stage where she could dare to share her thoughts with him. “I think you don’t want her to be guilty, and that’s why you keep ignoring obvious signs that she is.”

She had overestimated how firm the ground their friendship was built on really was. “I think _your_ judgement is clouded,” Jane snapped, and then he turned away from her. “You want her to be guilty, so you bend the clues until they fit your perception of the case.”

Lisbon realized (maybe too late?) they were on the verge of another fight. They were both panting, their faces were flushed, and they were trying to keep as much space as possible between them, despite the tight space they found themselves in. And if there was one thing Lisbon wanted to avoid, it was another fight like the one last week. It had cost her too much strength to be willing to go through something like it yet again.

“Then let’s agree to disagree,” she said, trying desperately to keep her voice level. “I’m going to solve the case the way I know how, and you can do whatever you want. But I’m warning you – if you stand in the way of me arresting one of your friends, I won’t have any trouble arresting you, too.”

Jane, who also seemed to want to avoid another fight, held up his hands defensively. “I think I know what’s going on here,” he said.

Lisbon refused to react to that. “Jane, I don’t want us to fight again.”

“We’re not fighting. At least I’m not.” He tried to smile at her, but it looked forced. “But I want you to trust me on this. Sophie Miller is innocent.”

Lisbon realized she needed to be much more diplomatic if she wanted to make Jane see reason. “Jane, I know it’s important to you that she is because she helped you when you were at your lowest, but I know I’m right this time.” She took two steps toward Jane and now he couldn’t avoid her anymore. There was just a shelf behind him, so there was no chance of escape. He had to listen to her, whether he wanted to or not. “And you need you to trust me because I’m always trusting your hunches.”

Despite her words, Lisbon wasn’t as sure of Dr. Miller’s guilt as she would have liked to be. She knew very well she had another reason, a personal one, for insisting Dr. Miller was guilty, but she didn’t want to examine that reason too closely. Any scrutiny would mean she couldn’t be professional anymore, at least not where Jane was concerned, and that would be one of the worst things to happen to her.

“I would trust you if I didn’t know you were wrong.”

That wasn’t what Lisbon had hoped to hear from him. “That’s not the definition of trust.”

“Lisbon, you need to stop being jealous. There’s no reason for you to be.”

She felt like Jane had punched her. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. She could feel the heat rising to her face, a flush covering her cheeks. It wasn’t that obvious, was it?

“I’m not jealous.” She refused to move away from him, she refused to give in. So she stood her ground, glaring at him, trying to show him he was way out of line.

“If you don’t want to call it that, then don’t,” Jane shrugged, “but I’ve seen enough jealousy in my life to know what’s going on.” His words sounded mean, but the tone in which he said it didn’t. It was odd.

Still, Lisbon decided to be defensive. “Please, don’t flatter yourself,” she huffed.

“You think now I’ve met someone again who used to be important to me, I’m going to leave the CBI,” Jane explained. “Or, if it’s not my leaving that worries you, then you’re concerned I won’t be spending as much time at work …,” he hesitated briefly, “or with you.”

These things hadn’t even occurred to Lisbon yet, she hadn’t thought that far ahead. But she couldn’t deny she was wary of the way Jane and Dr. Miller interacted with each other, and if Jane wanted to call it jealousy, then so be it.

“This is a professional disagreement, don’t make it personal,” she snapped. She stepped even closer to him, trying to make herself seem threateningly, even though she knew Jane wouldn’t be fooled by that.

“Would it help with this _professional_ disagreement if I told you there’s no reason for you to be jealous?” Jane asked, unperturbed by Lisbon’s closeness to him.

Lisbon laughed coldly. “It wouldn’t.”

Jane looked at her curiously. “Why does it bother you so much, me having a bond with another woman?” he asked.

“It doesn’t bother me,” Lisbon lied. “What bothers me is the fact you’re not working objectively on this case. You’re blinded by your connection to Dr. Miller.”

“Yes, I am,” Jane confirmed, “but that doesn’t mean she’s guilty.”

Lisbon was speechless for a moment. She hadn’t expected Jane to admit he was not impartial in this. There suddenly was a lump in her throat, one she tried desperately to swallow down before she said, “So you’re admitting you’re too close to this case to be able to work it rationally and objectively?”

Jane put his hands on Lisbon’s shoulders and moved her to the side slightly, before stepping past her. He freed a plastic chair from a box full of old books, then motioned for her to sit down. Lisbon did as he asked, her heart beating so loudly against her ribcage she was sure Jane could hear it.

“If you want to hear the truth, you’re getting it.” It did sound like a threat, at least a little bit. “Just give me a minute … or an hour.” He took a deep breath then. “I did have feelings for her …”

“You did?” Lisbon asked, her voice sounding smaller than she would have liked it to.

“I think it’s only natural for patients to develop a strong bond with their psychiatrists, especially when they are in a vulnerable position, _especially_ when they feel alone in the world,” Jane continued slowly, watching Lisbon closely. “And when I met Sophie, I was alone. Completely alone. My family, my wife and daughter … they had just been murdered. And all I could think of was dying, too. I didn’t want to live with the burden of being responsible for their deaths. But I also knew I deserved it. I deserved to suffer for the pain I had caused them with my selfish actions. And that’s when I met Sophie.” He stopped then, letting the words settle, giving Lisbon time to understand just how close to the edge he had been.

It made Lisbon uncomfortable. She shifted in her chair, suddenly feeling guilty for having pressed Jane about Dr. Miller. It really wasn’t her place, and it definitely wasn’t her place to feel jealous. “Jane, you don’t have to justify yourself. I get it.”

She was surprised he would open up to her like this in the first place. But, then again, their relationship had constantly been changing during the last few months. Him being honest with her about his past was just the tip of the iceberg. Ever since he had told her where he had been after the death of his family, their interactions felt easier somehow, even though the opposite should be the case. She just didn’t know how to navigate that yet.

“No, it’s important to me you understand.” Jane crouched down so his face was level with Lisbon’s. “It’s important to me that you know the position I was in when I met her. And she tried everything – _everything_ – to help me get better. She didn’t give up on me, like I had given up on myself. So, of course, I developed a strong connection to her. After all, she was the only person I knew in the world. And, after some time … she seemed to reciprocate my feelings.”

“What did you do?” Lisbon asked carefully. Jane’s eyes, which usually were blue, looked almost black in the dim lighting of the small room. She couldn’t tear her own eyes away from them.

“There was nothing to do,” Jane answered. “Once I had gotten better, I left.”

“You two never …?” Lisbon found herself unable to finish the sentence.

“No.”

“It’s not illegal, as far as I know,” Lisbon pointed out.

“It’s not,” Jane confirmed, “but when I had gotten better, I realized how unhealthy a relationship would have been between Sophie and me. She had seen the darkest parts of me, had forced me to show her those parts – that’s not a good basis for a loving, trusting relationship. And I wasn’t healed, far from it, I still –”

“I know,” Lisbon hurried to say. She didn’t need to hear it again, didn’t need him to confess again how much he was still hurting. It hurt her too, seeing him at his most vulnerable, and left her drained and craving something she couldn’t put her finger on.

“You do,” Jane nodded. “You know better than anyone.”

“Jane …,” Lisbon said carefully. “I’m sorry I was so hard on you because of Dr. Miller.”

“You weren’t …” It wasn’t true, but it felt good to hear him say it, nevertheless. “It’s your right to be worried about the case.”

“It’s not just the case.” Lisbon finally tore her eyes away from Jane’s. “You were right., I … I was feeling jealous of her, but not for the reason you think.”

“I know.”

That surprised her. She had expected him to tease her because of her jealousy, but he didn’t. “You do?”

He smiled softly at her, and for one brief moment, Lisbon caught herself thinking it was no wonder Dr. Miller had fallen for him. “You’re just getting comfortable with having me around, you don’t want anyone to ruin this.”

Lisbon shrugged, trying to play it cool. “I just think we make a good team.”

“So … will you help me with my plan? And will you stop feeling jealous?” Jane asked carefully.

Lisbon couldn’t stop herself from laughing, feeling some of the tension leave her body. “You know people can’t just switch their emotions on and off as they please.”

“But you’ll help me?” Jane pressed.

Lisbon sighed, but it wasn’t because she was annoyed, just exhausted. “I’ll help you.”

There was a short pause, and then Jane changed the subject so abruptly he caught Lisbon off-guard. “You know I’m not looking for a relationship right now.”

Lisbon felt taken aback. “Where’s this coming from?” she asked.

Jane finally stood up again and moved to the side to look at a collection of dusty syringes on one of the shelves. “Because you seemed worried I might start dating …”

“It’s none of my business,” Lisbon said, and stood up as well.

“Still,” Jane continued, “I want you to know I’m not looking for anyone right now. And even if I would find someone, I wouldn’t pursue them. There’s just too much going on in my life right now.”

They had talked about this topic once before, but now their roles were reversed. The last time, Lisbon had told him he wasn’t her type and she didn’t want to date him or even have just a one-night stand with him. So why were his words hurting her? There was no reason for her to feel like this, none at all.

“Really, Jane, you don’t have to tell me –”

“Just wanted to reassure you.” He still wasn’t looking at her.

“Okay, thanks,” she said. It sounded colder than she had intended.

“Good,” Jane nodded.

This was followed by an awkward pause. Lisbon’s head felt heavy; she was tired. She just wanted to close the case and not have anything to do with Dr. Miller ever again.

Finally, Jane turned to her and she took that as a cue to break the silence. “You wanted to tell me about your plan.”

“Yes, right …,” he said slowly and glanced at her.

Lisbon suddenly realized just how close they were standing together in this tight storage space. Had they always been this close? Had the room always felt this small and stuffy?

“So?” she asked, her eyes on Jane’s lips. She forced herself to focus them on his eyes again.

“I’m going to pretend …,” Jane answered, but then he didn’t go on, he just looked at her. Lisbon had no idea what that look was supposed to mean, but she wanted him to keep looking at her like that, even if she knew she shouldn’t want anything, not from him.

“Pretend what?” she asked.

Then her phone started to ring.


	5. Bloodshot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then she let go and her hand was suddenly on his cheek. From there, it wandered up into his hair and brushed through it. He hadn’t been touched like this in years, had forgotten what it felt like to have the hand of someone he cared about tangled in his hair, the hand of someone who cared about him. His senses were heightened now, and it felt so much more intense, so much better than it had any right to feel. He relaxed immediately under Lisbon’s touch and sighed deeply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Bloodshot ... that's one of my favorite episodes of the entire show. It's also the last chapter for s1, which means that tomorrow I'll start posting the chapters for s2.

**Prompt:** that’s the easy part

* * *

Van Pelt mumbled a quick apology and then she was gone. Jane hadn’t heard her clearly, but he knew she had figured out Rigsby was hurt somewhere in the CBI building. Hurt, or worse. Of course, she wanted to go look for him, wanted to make sure he was all right. Jane only understood too well how terrified she must feel. She was blaming herself for whatever had happened to Rigsby because she had been the one to introduce Dan Hollenbeck to them. Jane also knew there was no reason for her to feel that way – it wasn’t her fault.

It wasn’t her fault because all of this was his. And while Lisbon helped him get out of the car, he could smell the gunpowder on her, only too aware she had just shot another man to save his life. He felt sick thinking about it, and this feeling was only enhanced by his inability to see, to look at her face to check on her, to see if she was feeling okay. Her grip on his arm was steady, but that was just the adrenaline coursing through her veins. As soon as it wore off, she would start to shake. And he hated the feeling of being the cause for her distress.

It wasn’t Van Pelt’s fault, it was his fault, and his alone. He had been the one to ruin people’s lives pretending to be a psychic, and even years after he had stopped, years after he had been punished for his lies in the worst possible way, his mistakes were still haunting him. Maybe his punishment wasn’t over yet, maybe people he had wronged would keep reappearing in his life until one of them succeeded in getting their revenge. He wouldn’t blame them.

But then Lisbon whispered to him, whispered so softly he almost didn’t catch it. She asked him where she should guide him, and all he wanted was to be on his couch, to feel the leather beneath his fingers. It was the only place he knew, they only place that would comfort him right now. And while Lisbon obliged and led him back up the stairs, one of her hands was in one of his, while the other rested on the small of his back. And she didn’t stop whispering to him, she didn’t stop repeating soothing words, and that was when he knew he must look horrible, even worse than he felt.

He felt safe with her though, but he was still shaken up by what had just happened to him, and he didn’t know what to do about it. Now the adrenaline was finally wearing off, he started to shake. He felt hot and cold at the same time, he felt on the verge of tears, he felt like he was about to be sick. Even when he was finally back on his couch, he couldn’t calm down.

Lisbon, sensing his distress, asked him if he wanted her to make him a cup of tea, and he accepted gratefully. Then he heard her walk toward the kitchen, he took deep breaths in an attempt to calm and steady himself. He wanted to have his body back under control when Lisbon got back because he didn’t want her to see him like this, weak and helpless and on the verge of a panic attack.

He didn’t manage.

“Here you are,” Lisbon said softly. She took his right hand carefully into her left and guided it to the teacup. Only once she was sure Jane had a firm grip on it, she let go.

“Thanks.” He lifted the cup to his face and breathed in deeply, letting the steam waft over his face. This was finally soothing him. But he tensed up again, when he felt Lisbon sit down next to him on the couch.

“How are you feeling?” She was close to him; he could feel her bodyheat on his right side and sensed there wasn’t much space left between them.

“The tea smells good,” he evaded the question.

“Glad to hear it.” He couldn’t see the soft smile on her face, but he could hear it in her voice. “But are you … good?” she insisted.

Jane smiled in the general direction of her voice and hoped he had gotten it right. “No,” he answered honestly, “but I will be tomorrow morning.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” The smile was gone from her voice, but she still sounded soft. “You were in real danger all this time and I just left to talk to a suspect. I shouldn’t have done that.”

No! It was important she didn’t blame herself. Because if someone was completely innocent in all of this, is what Lisbon. To reassure her, he wanted to put his hand on her arm but missed and landed on her leg instead. He rested it there, pretending this was what he had wanted to do all along. She didn’t mind.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said empathetically. “It wasn’t anybody’s fault but mine.”

“But you’re blind! You couldn’t have changed anything about it anyway.” Jane had to suppress a laugh. This wasn’t an excuse for anything.

But instead of laughing, he put the smile back onto his face, hoping it looked reassuring and not creepy. He hated not being able to see Lisbon’s reaction to his words. “It’s sweet of you to say that but we both know it’s not true. I could have changed everything if I hadn’t been who I was six years ago.”

“No, Jane,” Lisbon cut him off fiercely, “don’t even think like that. You couldn’t have known what would happen to his family. You just did your job.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m not to blame,” Jane insisted. He squeezed her leg, then removed his hand. “I didn’t _care_ about the lives I ruined. They were just paychecks to me. And now I know nothing good can come of it.”

Lisbon took the hand which had just been on her leg moments ago into her own. It felt so small, so fragile, and Jane couldn’t believe it had been used to kill someone not even ten minutes ago. She shouldn’t have to keep doing that because of him.

“You did help a lot of people,” Lisbon told him then. “You can’t always make everyone happy one hundred percent. It’s the same in this job: We help people, but to do so, we have to make others unhappy.”

Jane leaned back so his head was resting against the backrest. He would be staring up at the ceiling if he could see. “But you care about the people you’re helping,” he pointed out. “That’s the difference between us.”

“You care now.”

“Meh,” Jane made and shrugged. “I don’t, not really, not about most of them.” He didn’t mean it, but it was the frustration talking, the hurt, the desperation. Suddenly, he just wanted to be alone with his bleak and gloomy thoughts, wanted Lisbon to be gone.

“You can’t fool me.”

Did he detect a note of challenge in her voice? He felt up to accepting it.

“Most of the people we meet are either broken or twisted.” _As am I_ , he added silently.

“I know you’re not the same man you were six years ago because you’re not the same man you were one year ago,” Lisbon went on, ignoring his last statement. “People change, constantly.”

Jane thought about this, thought about the last year he had spent together with Lisbon and the team. And he had to discover she was right. Something had changed. His feelings toward Cho and Rigsby and Van Pelt had morphed from tolerating them to considering them to be his friends. And his relationship with Lisbon had … He stopped himself before he could finish the thought.

“No, you’re right,” he finally said. “I’m not the same man. There are people I care about. You are one of them.”

She squeezed his hand.

“I also care about Rigsby and Van Pelt,” he went on, “and yet my actions put them in danger. Rigsby was almost beaten to death and Van Pelt was almost shot. And you … you had to kill someone. All because of me. You shouldn’t have to keep doing that.”

“Shhhh,” Lisbon made soothingly, her thumb brushing small circles against the back of his hand.

Then she let go and her hand was suddenly on his cheek. From there, it wandered up into his hair and brushed through it. He hadn’t been touched like this in years, had forgotten what it felt like to have the hand of someone he cared about tangled in his hair, the hand of someone who cared about him. His senses were heightened now, and it felt so much more intense, so much better than it had any right to feel. He relaxed immediately under Lisbon’s touch and sighed deeply.

“It’s not your fault,” Lisbon said, her voice low and husky. “And even if it were, even if I can’t convince you that it isn’t, I want you to know the fact you regret your past actions is enough to make up for the hurt you might have caused us.”

Jane sighed deeply again when Lisbon removed her hand, immediately longing for her touch. “I just don’t want you to have to go through all this because of me,” he said instead of asking her to continue with what she had been doing.

“Jane, it’s fine.” She suddenly sounded like the cop she was. “It’s part of my job. I would’ve done that same for Cho or Rigsby or Van Pelt.”

“But you did it for me.” It was different. It was him they were talking about, the most selfish, dangerous man Lisbon had the misfortune of knowing. “For a second time in a year,” he added. “You cannot keep doing that.”

Lisbon laughed softly. “What’s the alternative?” she wanted to know. “Let you die? Then I definitely couldn’t live with myself.”

Again, Lisbon raised a valid point and Jane paused to think about it. If he got killed, then there would be no one left to avenge his family.

Lisbon then proceeded to see right through him. “I know you’re being like this because you can’t see and because this case was personal. But the case is closed, and you’ll be able to see again soon enough and then your glum outlook will change as well.”

Her hand was in his hair again, brushing through it, the tips of her fingers lightly scraping his scalp. But then he heard voices down the corridor, voices he knew belonged to Rigsby and Van Pelt. He was sure Lisbon would flinch and pull back her hand immediately, but she didn’t. She continued, not minding there was a possibility of them being discovered like this.

 _Interesting_ , he thought.

He laughed softly. “You’re starting to sound just like me.” His voice sounded deeper than he had intended, and he cleared his throat.

Lisbon laughed as well, a light sound. “I’m just trying to get you to cheer up.”

“That must be the toughest part of your job.”

“No, that’s the easy part,” Lisbon contradicted him.

“It is?” he asked, surprised.

“Where you are concerned?” she clarified. “Yes.”

The voices had vanished (Jane had heard the elevator clearly) and Lisbon was still stroking his hair. He had calmed down completely now, and could focus on how nice her touch felt, how much he welcomed it. He wished she would continue until he fell asleep, but he also knew that wasn’t possible. He needed to be careful he didn’t let this go too far because he couldn’t allow her to come too close to him. It was too dangerous. But there was no harm done in enjoying the moment while it lasted, in flirting with her a bit more.

“Are you wearing perfume?” he changed the subject.

Lisbon’s hand stilled. “Am I wearing what?”

“You always smell so lovely. I never noticed before.” It was true; since he had gone blind, his sense of smell, in particular, had been heightened. And Lisbon did smell nice, something he had never noticed about her before. Then again, she didn’t seem the type to be wearing perfume.

To his chagrin, Lisbon removed her hand. “I think you’re still in shock. You keep talking nonsense.” Did that sound like she was teasing him? It definitely didn’t sound angry.

He laughed. “I’m just trying to pay you a compliment.” But if she didn’t want to flirt back, then he needed to change the subject. “You will have to go to counselling again now, won’t you?”

“You know what? I wouldn’t mind hearing one or two compliments more.”

 _Ah_. He would be a fool if he didn’t comply with her request.

“Give me your hand,” he said, putting his right one palm up in his lap. Once Lisbon had complied, he covered it with his left one, so her hand was encased completely. “You have very soft hands. It’s unusual for a woman in your profession.” He let his fingers run across her smooth skin. “No scars, no burns.” Then he raised his hand with hers in it to his face and breathed in deeply. “Are you sure you’re not wearing perfume?”

He could feel how Lisbon’s pulse had quickened, could feel the beat of her heart through the thin skin at her wrist, thumping against the tip of his fingers. As a response, his heart started to race too – what was he doing?

Lisbon made her hand feel heavy in his; it was just a slight pressure, but an invitation for him to lower his, and he did. She left her hand in his though, resting on his lap.

Finally, she said, “I’m not wearing perfume.”

“Huh,” he made, “interesting.”

Then she finally pulled back her hand. “Is there anything more you need? Anything I can help you with?”

Jane felt relieved and regretful at the same time. “I think I’ll be fine,” he told her.

“You sure you want to stay here?” she asked. He could hear in her voice that she thought it was a stupid idea.

“I know my surroundings here,” he answered. “If there’s anything I need during the night, I can get it for myself.”

“But are you sure you’ll be safe?” Lisbon pressed. Then she added, “You can come home with me if you want.”

She had said it so quickly Jane couldn’t be sure if he had understood her correctly.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” he asked.

He could feel Lisbon shift next to him, then draw in a deep breath. “You can come home with me if you want to,” she repeated, much slower than before.

Jane desperately wanted to say yes; there was nothing in the world he wanted more at this very moment. But that was a sign of how vulnerable he was, of how vulnerable they both were, and he didn’t want to exploit that.

“That’s a very kind offer, but you don’t want to be stuck with me,” he declined, even though it cost him a lot of willpower. “I’m a bad patient, as you’ve pointed out.”

“It wouldn’t be a problem,” Lisbon assured him.

“Lisbon, you don’t have to worry about me. No one is going to come for me,” Jane said, hoping he was right. He couldn’t take another night of excitement like this one.

“That’s not why I was offering.”

“I’ll be fine. Really,” Jane insisted. “You deserve a quiet evening.”

He could feel Lisbon shift again. “But you have to promise me to call if you need anything.”

For some reason, her concern for him did more to cheer him up than all the reassurances she had given him earlier had done. He had never seen her like this, at least not with him, except on the day they had met when she hadn’t yet known how difficult he could be to be around.

“If it makes you happy,” he accepted her offer.

“I’ll leave my phone on during the night.”

“Of course,” he nodded. He wouldn’t have expected anything less of her. “And I promise to call you if someone else is trying to murder me.”

“Or if _anything_ happens to you,” Lisbon added. “If you fall down or –”

He interrupted her. “I’m blind, not infirm.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” she apologized quickly. “I just … worry.”

“You really don’t have to,” Jane assured her. “I’ve got a feeling this will all be over soon.”

“I’ll ask Van Pelt and Rigsby to check on you before they leave.”

So she hadn’t noticed they had left already. Well, he wouldn’t be the one to correct her. “They have enough going on as it is.”

“But I will get back early to check up on you.”

It was one of the toughest negotiations Jane had ever been in. “All right.”

Jane could feel Lisbon shift for a third time, but this time it was so she could lean in closer to him. She was right next to him; he could feel her warmth brushing over his right side, and then he felt her breath brush against his cheek. She kissed him then, a small kiss, nothing more than a peck, but her lips were on his cheek, softly, tentatively, and even though it was just a small thing, it caught him off-guard.

“Good night, Jane,” she whispered.

He cleared his throat.” Good night, Lisbon.”

Then she stood up and he could hear her walk away. She left him behind in the dark, quiet office with his raging emotions, with his conflicting feelings, with his thoughts that wouldn’t quiet down. He knew it hadn’t meant anything, that kiss, it had just been her way of saying goodbye to him, how one friend would say goodbye to another. What he hadn’t counted on was his longing for it to mean something. What he wanted it to mean, he couldn’t say.


	6. Red Scare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lisbon crossed her arms in front of her chest, even though she knew Jane couldn’t make out the gesture. It gave her comfort, nevertheless. “I just think there’s stuff we shouldn’t mess with, even if it’s not real.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this is the month of Halloween, I wanted to write at least one "ghost" story.

**Prompt:** Will you look at this?

* * *

It was quiet in the house. Everyone had left, like Lisbon had told them to. It was just her and Jane left inside a – presumably – haunted mansion. It was just her and Jane left inside a dark house, waiting for a killer. The only backup they had were Rigsby and Van Pelt who were outside in a car, keeping an eye out for anyone wanting to sneak inside and surprise them.

It had been Jane’s plan, of course. And Lisbon had agreed to it, because the thrill of sneaking around, of waiting with bated breaths, of hiding in a dark corner had somehow appealed to her. But now she actually had to do it, now she and Jane were alone in the house with no light, no backup, she couldn’t help but be angry with herself for agreeing to go along with it. She had an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, one that had nothing to do with the ghost that was supposed to be haunting the premises, and everything to do with worrying she had put herself and Jane in danger with this operation. But Jane had convinced her it was the only way to catch the killer. And Jane could be very convincing.

Jane and Lisbon were sitting in two camping chairs next to the piano where Jane had “found” the second clue. There wasn’t much for them to do, since they couldn’t switch on a light because the killer might be able to see it through the window. The only source of light was a streetlamp outside, but it was barely enough to make out shapes in the dark. Lisbon knew Jane was sitting next to her, but she couldn’t see his expression or his hands – he was a shapeless form, and if she hadn’t known better, she would have mistaken him for a ghost.

“Scared?” Jane whispered suddenly.

They had to whisper if they wanted to talk to each other, Lisbon had insisted on that. They needed to keep listening to their surroundings for any sounds the killer might make because it was vital they weren’t caught by surprise.

Still, Lisbon allowed herself to snort quietly. “Of what?” she asked.

“The ghost,” Jane replied in a voice that made him sound like a cabin leader getting ready to tell a spooky story.

Lisbon sighed. “Jane, there is no ghost.” The last thing she needed was another variable she couldn’t control in this already dangerous equation.

“I want you to keep an open mind, Lisbon,” Jane teased. “Maybe the ghost really is the killer.”

Lisbon pointed into the general direction of a door leading to another room, one that Jane had shown to her earlier. It contained all the equipment Winthrop had installed to fool people into thinking ghosts were real. “You know the ghost isn’t real,” she told him in a stern voice. “You were the one who discovered that.”

“You can keep telling yourself that if it comforts you.”

Lisbon was sure Jane was smirking at her, even though she couldn’t see the details of his face in the dark. “Jane, you’re walking on thin ice already. Don’t push it.”

“You’re not still upset because I criticized your performance earlier, are you?” Jane asked, his voice serious all of a sudden.

“No?” Lisbon replied, even though the answer should have been yes.

“It wasn’t personal,” Jane continued. “And it worked. We got them all to leave.”

“If you’re making us wait in the dark here for nothing, I swear –,” Lisbon started, but Jane interrupted her.

“So you _are_ scared.” It wasn’t a question, just a simple observation.

Lisbon crossed her arms in front of her chest, even though she knew Jane couldn’t make out the gesture. It gave her comfort, nevertheless. “I just think there’s stuff we shouldn’t mess with, even if it’s not real.”

They both were quiet for a while after that, following their own thoughts to see where they would lead them. In Lisbon’s case, she thought about her mother, and how she had wished for a way to speak to her one last time. But it was hope wasted because her mother was dead. And she hadn’t been hurt and foolish enough to fall for a psychic, for someone like Jane, who would have promised her to connect her to a lost loved one. She had always been too rational to believe in stuff like that. That hadn’t stopped her from hoping to find a way, though. And she wasn’t alone with that hope. Countless people kept falling for the tricks of charlatans like Jane every day.

“It’s what you used to do, isn’t it?” she finally asked. “You should feel right at home in this house.”

“I never pretended ghosts were real,” Jane reminded her. “I don’t believe in that kind of stuff, and it would have been very hard for me to pull of such a con convincingly. I only ever pretended to be able to speak to the dead, to give them a voice.”

“But I bet you would have loved to install machinery like that in your house to fool people,” Lisbon went on. “And if not with ghosts, then with something else.”

Jane laughed, but it was louder than he had intended, so he stopped quickly. “I don’t need gimmicks to scare people,” he said instead.

Lisbon snorted. “Yeah, you’re right, you manage to scare me on a daily basis by just being you.”

“I’m not sure if I should feel flattered or not,” was Jane’s reply.

“It’s not a compliment,” Lisbon clarified.

“Maybe I would like to look at it that way,” Jane insisted.

But before Lisbon could think of a witty reply, she heard something. It sounded like someone was coming up the old, creaky staircase. It made her sit up straight, shifting into cop mode immediately.

“Shhh,” she made. Then, “Did you hear that?”

Jane mirrored her movements. At least, the dark blob next to her was suddenly taller than it had been before. “Hear what?” he asked.

There was a quiver in her voice when she answered his question. “I thought I heard a creaking sound.” It wasn’t like her to be squeamish, but something about this old mansion unnerved her.

“Maybe it’s the ghost.” Jane’s cabin leader voice was back.

“Or maybe it’s our killer,” Lisbon pointed out. She wouldn’t tolerate any nonsense from Jane, not tonight.

“Or maybe,” Jane continued, “it’s just an old house that creaks … do you want me to go check it out?”

“No, Jane.” She made it sound like an order on purpose.

“It’s no trouble. I need to use the bathroom anyway,” Jane insisted.

“If it’s the killer, you’ll need backup.”

“I’ll call you.”

“Jane, it’s too dangerous.”

But before Lisbon could voice further concerns, Jane had pushed himself out of his chair. “Just be quick, before the killer catches me.” Then he was out of the room, and Lisbon was alone in the dark.

“God, Jane, I really hate you sometimes,” she mumbled to herself.

Now that Jane was gone, she could hear the house move around her, she could _feel_ the house move around her. A shiver ran down her spine at another creaking sound, this time much closer, but she told herself it was just Jane on his way to the bathroom. She knew ghosts weren’t real, she wasn’t scared of them, because even if they were real, they were just a wisp of smoke, nothing more. They couldn’t hurt her.

What could hurt her was a killer. And the idea of waiting alone in the dark for a potentially dangerous man (or woman) wasn’t appealing to her. She had been to the house a couple of times before, but it hadn’t been enough for her to familiarize herself with its outline, and she hated not being in control of a situation. From the information they had gathered about their killer, she knew whoever it was had to be familiar with the house. In other words, whoever it was had an advantage.

What didn’t help ease her feeling of dread was being stuck with Jane. Jane who had been in a playful yet challenging mood lately, Jane who had been teasing her about being afraid of the dark, Jane who had convinced her to pull another con with him to catch the murderer. She still wasn’t sure this was such a good idea. On the one hand, lying in wait should give them the upper hand, but on the other hand, there was always the possibility of the killer surprising them.

They shouldn’t have separated; Lisbon figured out too late that it had been a mistake.

There was still no sign of Jane, and the longer Lisbon waited for him to come back, the more her thoughts narrowed until all she could think about was him. Their lives had changed so much recently – they weren’t in charge of the Red John files anymore and yet Jane had stuck with her. When Minelli had given the files to Bosco and his team, Lisbon had expected Jane to leave; and he had, for a short while. But then he had come back to her, and they were working together again. Jane had even helped her a few weeks ago when she had been on the verge of a breakdown, and she was glad to have him as a friend, thankful even. She decided to tell him that when he got back because she was in a safe position to do so. He wouldn’t be able to see her face in the dark, and even though she wanted to tell him, she was scared of seeing his reaction.

But before she could decide how to approach the subject, she heard the same strange sound she had heard earlier and tensed up. Her hand shot to her gun; touching the cold metal grounded her.

“Jane?” It wasn’t more than a whisper, but she didn’t dare to speak any louder, afraid she was going to give away her position.

There was no reply.

“Jane?” she whispered again, more insistently this time.

Then she heard a groan that mad her jump out of her chair. She wasn’t sure if it had been the house or her imagination – or Jane.

“Are you all right?” she hissed in the direction Jane had disappeared in earlier.

Then she got her reply, a soft, “Lisbon.”

Lisbon immediately was in a defensive mode. She carefully crept toward the door Jane had walked out of, her gun ready. “Jane, where are you?” she asked.

The only reply she got was another, “Lisbon …”

It sounded almost ghostly.

Lisbon followed the sound of Jane’s voice as best as she could, creeping through a pitch-black house. When she left the room she had been waiting in, she also left the light of the streetlamp behind, so she wasn’t able to see anything. But she also didn’t want to use her flashlight because if Jane was with the killer, she wanted to have the element of surprise.

When she reached another room, she could make out a dark shape next to something that looked like a curtain.

“Jane, is that you?” she whispered into the darkness.

“Will you look at this?” was the faint answer she got. Then the figure vanished behind the curtain.

Lisbon moved into the room, trying to clear it as best as she could as she moved along. It seemed to be empty, so she walked to the curtain quickly and pulled it aside. Behind it, she found another room, even darker than the one before. She couldn’t see a thing.

“Jane, are you in here? Are you all right?”

She didn’t get a reply.

“Jane, this isn’t funny. I need you to come out right now.”

She had no idea if he was pulling her leg or if he really was in danger, but she didn’t want to take any chances, so she moved into the middle of the room, her arms stretched out in front of her, holding her gun.

Then she saw movement to her left, felt it more than saw it, really, and before she could do anything, she heard a “Boo!” and felt a hand on her shoulder.

Her first instinct was to punch.

“Ouch!” It was definitely Jane.

Lisbon was done with creeping around in the dark, so she switched on her flashlight and pointed it to her left. The light beam revealed a disheveled Jane; there was blood coming out of his nose.

“Jane, what the hell?” Lisbon snapped.

“You punched me!” Jane complained, trying to stop the bleeding, but failing. Now his left hand was covered in blood was well.

“And I’m armed,” Lisbon pointed out, waving her gun around.

Jane pulled a handkerchief out of his jacket pocket. “Put that thing away!” he snapped. Then he pressed the handkerchief against his bleeding nose.

Lisbon did as he had told her but glared at him. “Well, what did you think was going to happen?”

“Not that,” Jane admitted.

“You’re right,” Lisbon agreed, “I could’ve shot you instead.”

“Could you lower the light, please?” Jane asked, squinting at her.

Lisbon complied again but kept the light on. “Why did you do that?”

“Just a joke,” Jane shrugged. “I wanted to lighten the mood.”

“This is neither the time nor the place,” Lisbon scolded. “We’re on a stakeout. We’re waiting for someone who has killed at least one person.”

“Well, you have to admit, this kind of is the place.” There was a crooked grin on Jane’s face as he waved the bloody handkerchief around.

“Come here.” Lisbon handed Jane the flashlight, grabbing his wrist to position it how she needed it. Then she took the handkerchief from him and wiped it across his mouth and chin.

“Ouch!” Jane complained again and pulled back.

Lisbon pulled him close again. “Don’t be such a baby.”

“Again, you hit me,” Jane reminded her.

“You can’t blame me for that,” Lisbon said, but she didn’t really pay attention to her own answer. She was too busy cleaning Jane. “You could’ve been the killer.”

“Fair enough …,” Jane gave in.

Lisbon held his chin tightly to keep him in place, then proceeded to clean his nose. When she was happy with her work, she looked at him. “I don’t think it’s broken.”

“I hope it’s not … I want to retain my good looks.”

Lisbon snorted to hide a laugh.

“Don’t be mean …,” Jane sighed. “I learned my lesson today. I won’t be messing with you in future.”

That reminded Lisbon of something. “You know what Haas called me earlier?” she asked.

Jane lowered the flashlight, then stilled. “What?” he asked.

Lisbon handed him back the soiled handkerchief, then took the flashlight from him. “A little thing.”

“He didn’t!” Jane sounded genuinely scandalized.

Lisbon smirked. “He learned his lesson fast enough.”

“If it’s one thing you’re not …,” Jane went on.

“Well, you also underestimated me,” Lisbon pointed out.

“And I also learned my lesson,” Jane agreed. “I will never do it again.”

Lisbon’s expression finally softened. It was no use staying mad at Jane. “You can be an idiot sometimes, you know that?”

“Just sometimes?” Jane teased.

“There was something I wanted to tell you earlier …,” Lisbon started, thinking it was best to get it out in the open now.

Jane snapped to attention. “What is it?” There was a slight edge to his voice, as if he was scared of hearing what Lisbon was about to tell him.

“Well, I’m not going to say it now,” Lisbon backtracked. “You ruined the mood with your shenanigans.”

“No please, Lisbon, I’m sorry,” Jane apologized. “Please tell me.”

“I didn’t know you could ask for stuff so nicely,” Lisbon teased. Then she bit her lip. She shouldn’t have said it like that. It had sounded flirtier than she had intended for it to sound, and if there was one thing she didn’t want to do, it was to flirt with Patrick Jane.

“I can tell when something is important to you and this definitely is.”

Lisbon took a deep breath. “No, Jane,” she declined. “Maybe some other time.”

“Lisbon …,” Jane started.

But then they both heard it, a sound coming from the room where the piano was – a sound coming from the room they had been hiding in.

“Shush!” Lisbon hissed and Jane, for once, did as he was told. Lisbon drew her gun again. “Let’s go!”


	7. Red Bulls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bosco’s hand had been on Lisbon’s shoulder right before they had stormed the house. It had been an innocent enough gesture, one colleagues in this profession exchanged frequently, and yet it had rubbed Jane the wrong way. He hated it, loathed it, both the gesture and the feeling it evoked in him. Whenever he looked over to where Bosco was standing talking to a crew of reporters, that feeling only intensified until he realized he hadn’t been breathing in a while. He had no idea how to interpret that touch, whether it had been one colleague reassuring another, or if there had been something more behind it, and he hated not knowing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One day, I'm going to write that fic about Jane being jealous I keep thinking about. In the meantime, this will have to do.

**Prompt:** this, this makes it all worth it

* * *

Jane watched the scene before him. The police officers were running around, a siren went off somewhere, a man was shouting, then the paramedics arrived. Verona was hugging her sister Mia, refusing to let go, even when a doctor was trying to convince her they needed to check if her sister had any injuries. It was chaos, one that Jane only associated with the beginning of a case, not its end.

After a while, Lisbon joined him, and they stood together in silence at the edge of the property where they had found Mia Westlake. She was only alive because of Jane, he was very aware of that, and despite Bosco. Bosco, who had refused to listen to him at first, who had wanted to do this by the book, and therefore had almost been responsible for Mia’s death. Jane felt smug, proud, exhilarated, because he had managed to convince Bosco in the end. That he had Lisbon to thank for Bosco’s change of heart was something he chose to ignore, something that left a stale taste in his mouth whenever he thought of it.

Bosco’s hand had been on Lisbon’s shoulder right before they had stormed the house. It had been an innocent enough gesture, one colleagues in this profession exchanged frequently, and yet it had rubbed Jane the wrong way. He hated it, loathed it, both the gesture and the feeling it evoked in him. Whenever he looked over to where Bosco was standing talking to a crew of reporters, that feeling only intensified until he realized he hadn’t been breathing in a while. He had no idea how to interpret that touch, whether it had been one colleague reassuring another, or if there had been something more behind it, and he hated not knowing.

The only thing he knew was how Lisbon felt about cheating. It was something she wouldn’t – couldn’t – forgive a partner for, so it was only logical to assume she also wouldn’t be part of someone cheating on their partner. And Bosco was married. She would never have an affair with him, it went against her innermost beliefs. But there was still a slight possibility she might, and not knowing if she would was part of the problem.

The other part was that it was none of his business.

“This, this makes it all worth it,” he said, finally breaking the silence. He nodded toward the two sisters, so Lisbon knew what he was talking about.

“You did well today,” Lisbon replied.

He hadn’t expected that praise coming from her, and it pulled him back out of his thoughts that were slowly consumed by jealousy. “I did?”

“Well, yeah,” Lisbon nodded, “considering the circumstances.”

“Thank you.” He appreciated the sincere commendation coming from her.

“I guess we wouldn’t have found her in time had it not been for your plan,” Lisbon continued. “Or we wouldn’t have found her in time _alive_.”

He knew it had taken her a lot to admit this. “Thank you, Lisbon,” he said again.

“But don’t get cocky,” she warned him.

That made him smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Lisbon raised an eyebrow at him. “I know what you’re like when you’re right. Go easy on Bosco.”

“Seeing Mia reunited with her sister is reward enough …,” Jane said slowly. He wasn’t planning on rubbing his success in Bosco’s face, but thinking about it gave him a strange feeling of satisfaction. “I’m actually thinking of transferring out of the homicide unit,” he added.

“No, you’re not.” She said it with conviction, but she sounded unsure.

Jane smiled at her. “I’m not,” he admitted, “but I wouldn’t mind seeing moments like this more often.”

Mia was crying now, but they weren’t tears of exhaustion or pain, just tears of happiness. Verona was crying too, silently, rubbing her sister’s back, watching her as if she was the most beautiful person she had ever seen. Jane knew it would take years for both of them to work through this trauma, but they would make it because they had each other.

“I know what you mean,” Lisbon said softly, and Jane realized she had been watching the sisters, too.

“I could never leave you though,” he said with a smirk.

As a response, Lisbon punched his arm playfully. “Only because I let you do what you want.”

“You do?” That was certainly news to him.

“How did you like working with Bosco?” Lisbon asked him then.

It was her who had said the name first, not him. So if the conversation went into that particular direction, it wasn’t his fault. For now, he tried to push his jealousy aside and remembered how Bosco had tried to impress him with his masculinity, how he had refused to listen to his plan at first, how Lisbon had shouted at Bosco because of that.

“You’re definitely nicer to look at,” he answered.

“That’s it?” Lisbon sounded almost disappointed.

Jane laughed lightly. “And you’re much nicer in general,” he assured her.

“You know,” Lisbon said with a sigh, “maybe I shouldn’t be. I think it’s time I didn’t go along with each and every single one of your stupid plans.”

He had definitely hit a nerve by calling her nice.

“Stupid? Really, Lisbon? I get the job done.” Hadn’t she said a few minutes ago that Mia was only alive thanks to him?

“You do,” Lisbon admitted, “but maybe the price is too high.”

“Have you been talking to Bosco?” It sounded like something he would say, something he had said, in fact. And if this was a competition between him and Bosco, Jane wasn’t so sure Lisbon would pick his side again.

“This is something I realized myself, thank you very much.” Lisbon crossed her arms in front of her chest. So they had reached the point in their conversation where she would shut him out.

“Bosco has a different approach than me,” Jane answered diplomatically. “He doesn’t like to think outside the box, to get creative. You, on the other hand, always have an open mind. I appreciate that about you.”

He really did. He meant it as a compliment. If he had to choose between working with Bosco and working with Lisbon, he would choose Lisbon any day. And not just because she was nice to look at, but because he admired her as a colleague.

“And one day,” Lisbon continued, “this _open mind_ , as you like to call it, will cost me my job. And my career.”

“So you have been talking to Bosco,” Jane observed.

“No, I haven’t.”

Her denial intrigued him. And made his feet grow cold. Why would she be hiding something like this from him? “Funny, because he said the exact same thing to me,” he went on.

“Well, he’s not wrong,” Lisbon said with a shrug.

Jane swallowed hard. “You resent me because of that, don’t you?” he asked carefully. “You resent being stuck with me.” He didn’t want it to sound so much like self-pity, but he couldn’t help himself. The tone of the conversation had definitely shifted, and he knew he was partly responsible for that.

“I don’t, Jane,” Lisbon answered, but it sounded as if she did. “I just wish you would be less … difficult sometimes.”

This hurt Jane, more than her hiding her conversation with Bosco did. He swallowed again. There was a lump in his throat he couldn’t get rid of. “Then we wouldn’t close as many cases,” he said, his voice sounding evenly, matter-of-factly.

“That’s the price I would be willing to pay for some peace of mind.”

Jane opened his mouth to contradict her, to assure her, to say something in his defense, but she continued.

“You were in jail a few weeks back because of your _methods_ , Jane,” she reminded him. “You cannot keep doing what you want … it’ll get us in serious trouble one of these days.”

Jane decided to take a few steps into another direction, to play it lightly. “But there is no fun in being careful. You have to admit, your job would be a lot less exciting without me.”

“Yes, and a lot less nerve-wrecking.”

She suddenly looked tired, older, like she had fought a long, hard battle with something and had decided to give up. He didn’t want her to do that. He wanted her to be happy, to love her job, to love working with him. It was selfish, he knew that, but if toning it down was the way to go, he would be willing to make that sacrifice.

He sighed as he came to a difficult decision. “I will try to better myself, for your sake.” He watched her face, watched the micro-expressions, watched her eyes grow wide with surprise. “But I do need something in return.”

She turned her head to look at him then, her expression one of mistrust. “What?”

“You know, looks can hurt, too.” He put his right hand over his heart dramatically.

“I just don’t trust you,” Lisbon explained, but her gaze softened. “You want to trick me.”

“No, I just want you to be honest with me …” Lisbon didn’t say anything, but waited for him to continue, so he did. “When you said to Bosco you think I’ve made you a better cop, did you really mean that?”

He wasn’t fishing for compliments; far from it. He just wanted to have confirmation it wasn’t just something Lisbon had said to win Bosco over; he just wanted to have confirmation Lisbon’s words were true because it would mean the world to him if they were.

Lisbon looked at him strangely; he couldn’t quite interpret it. He knew there was surprise in there, mixed with curiosity, but also something akin to anger. “I think you’ve made me more patient,” she said finally, “you taught me to pay attention to the details, to not always follow the book.” She paused to smile at him, and he smiled back at her. “But that doesn’t mean you’re getting carte blanche to do as you please in future. I just think, yeah, ultimately, I’ve learned a lot from you that will help me in my career, if I still have one a year from now.”

Jane nodded solemnly. “Glad to be of service.”

“And have I made you a better … I don’t know, consultant?”

It was such a sweet question that he thought for a moment to tell her the truth. She hadn’t made him better at his job, she had made him a better person. But this was neither the time nor the place for cheesy confessions. “No, not really,” he answered. “I was pretty good to begin with.”

Lisbon rolled her eyes.

But there was something else he needed to talk to her about, something that would cost him the little bit of sleep he was still able to get now and then if he didn’t address it. “I’ve also been meaning to ask you about Bosco.”

She had mentioned the other man first, it hadn’t been him, so he thought this topic was fair game. Lisbon, however, seemed to disagree with him. She whipped her head around so fast she must have torn a muscle in her neck because she brought up a hand to rub at the skin there immediately.

“What about him?”

Now that it was time to say what he had been meaning to say, he didn’t know what words to use, so he just asked, “You like him a lot, don’t you?” It sounded silly, unspecific.

“He’s one of my oldest colleagues, so yes,” Lisbon answered warily. She knew this wasn’t it and he found it difficult to deal with the fact it wasn’t just him who was able to read her, but that she was able to read him, too.

“Come on, Lisbon,” he said with a cold chuckle, “I know it’s more than that.”

“We’re also friends …,” Lisbon said slowly, “at least I thought so. He’s changed, recently.”

That made Jane listen up. “Changed? How?”

But that was as far as Lisbon was willing to let him go. “I fail to see how my personal relationship with one of my colleagues is any of your business.”

“I’m just looking out for you.” He knew it was a weak excuse, and she knew it too.

“Thanks, but you don’t have to.” She turned around and he was sure she was about to leave.

As a last resort, Jane said, “He’s married, right?”

“Yes,” Lisbon confirmed, “happily.”

Jane sensed he should leave it at that, sensed he shouldn’t keep pushing his luck, and yet he went on. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

Lisbon looked over to where Bosco was getting into his car. She raised a hand to wave at him and smiled, and he did the same. Then she turned around to Jane and glared at him.

“Please tell me you’re not implying what I think you’re implying.”

“It’s probably nothing but …,” Jane said slowly before fixating his eyes on Bosco’s car, “right before you stormed the house, his hand was on your shoulder.”

“So?” Lisbon snapped.

Jane shrugged and looked back at Lisbon. “It doesn’t have to mean anything; I just think it’s odd.”

“He was just looking out for me.”

There was a choice hidden in this small, seven-word sentence. The first option was to drop the subject, to shrug, laugh it off, and then leave together. The other option was to let jealousy take over, to confront Lisbon, to let her see how torn he was, to make it her problem.

Jane went with the second option.

“So it’s okay when he does it, but not when I do it?”

There was silence between them now. The sentence was out, the choice had been made, there was no way of taking it back and picking the other path. There was no way of making it unheard, unprocessed by Lisbon’s sharp mind. Jane had no idea where it had come from, where his feelings concerning Lisbon and Bosco were coming from in general – all he knew was that it was motivated by jealousy, raging jealousy, jealousy he didn’t want to feel, he didn’t have any right to feel.

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” Lisbon said finally, her voice the epitome of repressed rage.

“Of course not,” Jane agreed.

“In fact,” Lisbon continued, “I don’t owe you anything.”

He had awakened this in her, had wanted to awaken it, and now he had to deal with the consequences. “I know that, and I’m sorry.”

The rage was no longer repressed then. “So you can take your misguided jealousy and do whatever you want with it, but don’t make it my business.” Her voice rang across the now almost empty front yard and Jane was glad there was no one left to overhear them.

He tried to take it back then. “Lisbon, I wasn’t implying anything, I just –”

“We’re friends, Jane, but that doesn’t give you the right to scrutinize other people I’m close to.” She wasn’t shouting anymore, but her voice was far from calm. “Unless you think they have something to do with Red John. Do you think Bosco has something to do with Red John?”

Jane felt ashamed suddenly, very ashamed. He lowered his gaze to stare at the dirty ground between them. “No, I don’t.”

“Then just … don’t.”

Jane remembered how, about a year ago, Lisbon had been jealous of Sophie Miller, and Jane had gone to great lengths to assure her there was no need to feel this way. Now their positions were reversed: Lisbon had just figured out Jane was jealous of Bosco, but she wasn’t offering the same kind of comfort he had given her. It hurt him – and it was proof his instincts were right. There was something going on between Lisbon and Bosco. And if he wasn’t careful, he would push her away and lose her for good.

His eyes still on the ground, he mumbled. “Sorry, it won’t happen again.”

Jane knew he had absolutely no right to mess with Lisbon’s (love) life, no right whatsoever. It was none of his business, as she had correctly reminded him. And it wasn’t as if they hadn’t discussed this topic before. He had made it clear he wasn’t looking for a relationship right now and she had told him he wasn’t her type; they were supposed to be on the same page about this. And yet … this was difficult for him, more difficult than he was willing to admit, even to himself. He should be happy for her; this shouldn’t feel like she was slipping away from him. She wasn’t. Nothing would change between them, even if she had an affair with Bosco. Even if she started dating and got herself a boyfriend.

So Jane came to the only decision he could make under these circumstances: He decided not to feel jealous anymore, no matter what would happen. He buried the feeling as deeply as he could, as far away from the surface as possible. He decided to be the supportive friend she wanted him to be, the one she needed. He decided that, as soon as there was a man in Lisbon’s life who was worthy of her, he would be nothing but supportive.

“Good,” Lisbon growled.

“We’re good, right?” Jane didn’t want to ask this, it made him sound like a twelve-year-old. His voice sounded weak, so he swallowed once, twice. “I’m just trying to figure out how angry you are with me.”

Lisbon put a hand on his arm reassuringly and her touch almost made him jump. “I’m not angry, just … annoyed. But yes, we’re good.” She smiled at him, a smile that was a companion to her touch. “I just need you to tone it down a bit.”

Jane forced himself to smile as well. “What, exactly?” he asked in a tone he hoped would sound cocky.

“Well, everything,” was the answer he got.


	8. Redline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lisbon laughed loudly, and the sound surprised her. She hadn’t laughed like this in weeks, maybe even months. The thought of her and Mashburn was ridiculous, as Jane very well knew, and yet he kept bringing it up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just gonna come out and say it: I love Walter Mashburn and the whole Mashburn storyline!!

**Prompt:** how about you trust me for once?

* * *

The ocean was calm that evening. There was a slight breeze tickling Lisbon’s neck as she looked out across the water, her eyes following a small yacht across the bay. The wind helped to calm her nerves and stomach. She was still shaken up from Jane’s driving skills, but he had gotten them to Napa in one piece and she guessed that was something to be thankful for. And it was a nice evening. And she was thankful for being alive to be able to enjoy it.

Jane had been right: It was a very nice restaurant. They were out on the terrace, they had already ordered their drinks, and Lisbon felt herself relax. She was letting her guard down, and she didn’t mind. She deserved an evening off.

“So, how are you?” Jane asked, watching her as she still watched the yacht.

Lisbon turned her attention to him. He was sitting opposite her, his elbows on the table, his arms folded, his gaze attentive yet reserved. The setting sun caught in his hair, making his curls appear almost red. She had never looked at his curls like this before, had never noticed how soft they seemed. She asked herself what it would feel like to touch them.

“How _am_ I?” she echoed.

“You look a bit pale.” Was that real concern on his face or was he putting on an act?

“You know,” Lisbon said with a small smirk, “there is a reason I don’t let you drive.”

“Ah, Lisbon, come on.” He made a disarming gesture. “You’ve got to admit you had fun.”

Yes, she was prepared to admit that, but only to herself. The car Mashburn had lent Jane was very nice, and _very fast_ , and she had enjoyed the attention it had gotten them. But there was no way in hell she would let Jane behind the wheel of that machine ever again. Also, she was itching to have a go herself.

“I’m driving back.” Her voice was firm. “And no, this is not up for discussion.”

She couldn’t help but smile at the memory of their drive to the restaurant. She knew Jane had driven dangerously on purpose in an attempt to loosen her up. Usually, she would have made him pull over, she would have made him swap seats with her, but, to her surprise, she had done no such thing. Instead, she had loosened up, as Jane had wanted her to, and had enjoyed herself.

Their drinks arrived then, and they toasted each other.

“So, how are you?” Jane repeated his question from earlier.

“I’m fine, thank you, Jane,” Lisbon answered.

“And how’s the tension headache?” Jane wanted to know.

“All better.”

“Good, good …” He looked at her and she knew he was scanning her face for any signs she was lying. “How did it turn out with, you know, Rigsby and Van Pelt?”

“I decided not to report them.”

She was certain Jane would be glad to hear that and, sure enough, his face lit up with a big smile. “Oh?”

Lisbon smiled too. “Are you that invested in their relationship?”

“No, no, I just think there isn’t enough love in this world, and we should encourage and support it whenever we get a chance to,” he answered. Lisbon supposed he would say that, considering he was the most romantic person she knew. “Were they happy?”

She pulled a face at the memory of how Rigsby and Van Pelt had reacted, almost angrily, as if they wished she had actually reported them. “I’m not sure. They reacted almost … annoyed.”

“Huh,” Jane made.

“Yeah, it was odd.”

“Speaking of love …,” Jane continued, and Lisbon’s smile froze, “you and Mashburn, how about it?”

Lisbon laughed loudly, and the sound surprised her. She hadn’t laughed like this in weeks, maybe even months. The thought of her and Mashburn was ridiculous, as Jane very well knew, and yet he kept bringing it up.

“No, no, hear me out.” He sounded serious, so she stopped laughing and decided to listen to him as an act of courtesy. “I still think it’d be good for you. You need to loosen up, have a bit of fun, experience something new. Maybe it’ll help you with your tension headaches.”

“Thanks,” Lisbon replied, “but no thanks.”

“No in general or no because it’s Mashburn?” Jane pressed.

“He’s a selfish, egotistic child who’s used to getting what he wants, you said so yourself,” Lisbon reminded him.

“I don’t think I said it exactly like that,” Jane said thoughtfully.

“He could be a psychopath, for all we know,” Lisbon went on. Just because Mashburn hadn’t killed Liselle Douglas didn’t mean there weren’t any skeletons in his closet. And Lisbon was too cautious to take that chance.

“Oh, he definitely is one,” Jane confirmed, “but he’s a fun one. So why not go for it?”

Jane looked at her as if he was confused by her reaction. Lisbon definitely felt confused by his insistence she should give in to Mashburn’s advances. A few months ago, he had been incredibly jealous of Bosco when he had suspected her of sleeping with him. And now this? Maybe he was playing one of his games. And maybe she was up to it.

Lisbon laughed again because she didn’t know how to react to that. “I’m sorry, that thought is just so ridiculous.”

“He said you had a damaged intensity that’s quite attractive,” Jane recalled. “I don’t know about you, but I thought it sounded romantic.”

Her instincts had been right … he was definitely toying with her. And she would let him – up to a point. “I think it’s healthy for him that he didn’t get what he wanted for once,” she said, her eyebrows raised.

“Oh, I have a feeling we haven’t seen the last of him.” Jane picked up his glass and watched Lisbon’s reaction carefully as he took a sip.

“How come?” Lisbon asked, and mirrored him. The wine Jane had ordered tasted excellent and she suppressed a happy sigh.

“I still need get his car back to him,” Jane answered. “But he might enjoy it more with you in it.”

At that, Lisbon blushed and lowered her gaze to her empty plate. “Jane, that’s not appropriate.” She couldn’t help but smile though.

Jane did the only dignified thing and shrugged.

Then their food finally arrived, sparing Lisbon the embarrassment of continuing this conversation. Instead, she could turn her attention back to Jane and to this, as she had to admit, quite romantic evening.

“So, what’s the occasion?” she asked.

“I just thought … you know.” He shrugged again. “You were in a bad mood because of Rigsby and Van Pelt, I thought I would cheer you up.”

It was actually a sweet gesture, and she suddenly wasn’t so sure anymore he was really toying with her. He seemed to be sincere. “Well, consider me cheered up,” she told him.

He laughed. “That was easy.”

“Disappointed?” she asked, her voice coming out huskier than she had intended. She bit her lip.

“I like a challenge,” he reminded her with a wink.

She couldn’t help but ask, “And there’s no ulterior motive?” Maybe the case wasn’t solved yet. Maybe Jane had found another clue and they were on a stakeout. Or this was one of his tricks. What he wanted to achieve with it eluded her though.

“Lisbon,” he said with a sigh, “how about you trust me for once?”

“Hm …,” she made, pretending to think about it, “no.”

“I’ll swear to it if it makes you happy,” he offered.

Lisbon felt happy. Everything had worked out with Rigsby and Van Pelt, they had solved the case without the CBI getting sued, and she was here with Jane in this nice restaurant, watching a sunset while enjoying excellent food and wine. Life was good.

She smiled at him mischievously. “You once said you like all this stuff I would call _romantic crap_.”

“And would you say this,” he waved his hand around, “is romantic crap?”

Lisbon looked at the horizon, at the evening sun, at the dark blue ocean that had a tint of red and orange to it, at the tables around them, at the other couples – there were only couples on the terrace with them. Then she looked at her plate, at her glass of dark red wine, at the seagulls circling overhead.

“It’s not bad,” she answered slowly.

“There’s your answer then.”

Lisbon couldn’t let it go. This evening had triggered a memory of a conversation they had had almost two years ago in a motel room not too far from here. “But you also said you would take a woman out to a good restaurant when you’re on a date with her.”

“Funny you should remember that,” Jane said, a twinkle in his eyes.

She smiled at him like she had never smiled at him before. “I learned from the best.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, then lowered his eyes to his plate, then to hers, and then they were back on her face. “Is that how you want to play it?”

“Play what?” she asked innocently.

“Teresa.”

That made her blush. He almost never called her by her first name. There were exceptions to this rule, of course, like when they were in a dangerous situation. Or in an intimate one. She could feel her heartbeat quicken, and then a surge of anger shot through her. Why did her body have to betray her like that?

“Yes?” she asked, still an image of pure innocence.

“Are you trying to make Mashburn jealous? You know, he’s not here, he won’t see us.”

Lisbon snorted. “I’m not.”

“Now I think _you_ might have an ulterior motive.” The way he said it sounded as if he knew exactly what that motive was. It didn’t help to calm her heartbeat.

“I’m just enjoying the view …,” Lisbon answered. Then she added, “And the company.”

Lisbon hadn’t flirted in years … she wasn’t even sure if she could call what she was doing flirting. She wasn’t even sure if she wanted to flirt, if that was her intention. And if the answer to that question was yes, she needed to ask herself why she was flirting with Patrick Jane, of all people.

“I can only return that compliment,” Jane said with a smile, his eyes on hers.

That was it, he wasn’t giving her anything more. It wasn’t much to work with. But Lisbon was having too much fun with this, and she wanted to see how far she could push it. “And you’re not jealous?” she asked.

“Jealous?” Jane echoed. “Of whom?”

“Mashburn,” Lisbon answered. Wasn’t that obvious?

“Mashburn? Why?”

Oh, he was teasing her now. He knew the answer to that, and yet he was confident enough to know Mashburn wasn’t competition for him. This new side of Jane, this confidence, was alluring to her, was something she even found attractive, and she decided to work with it, to make the most out of it.

But then she remembered Bosco, and how jealous Jane had been of him. For a few short seconds, she wondered if she should bring it up, but then decided against it. She didn’t want to drag her dead friend into this; it would only serve to ruin the mood.

“Well,” she finally said, “he’s much richer than you, and he drives nicer cars.”

“Hm, good point,” Jane said thoughtfully. “Maybe I would be jealous if you were into that stuff.”

“I’m not?” Lisbon challenged.

“I don’t know, are you?”

He could be so infuriating sometimes! And she liked it. She liked seeing him like this, she liked knowing his attention was entirely focused on her. She liked that he was flirting back, that he wasn’t rejecting her. But then she asked herself when it had stopped being a game and had become a means to an end. Because there was a goal to this, after all.

“I enjoyed the car right earlier,” she answered, wanting to see if she couldn’t make him jealous after all.

“I thought you were scared for your life.”

“I like to live dangerously,” she said.

Jane’s eyes went wide at hearing this, and suddenly he had a look on his face, one she had never seen before. He looked dangerous, almost predatory, and she was glad she was sitting down. But that he let her see him like this, that he looked at her like this in the first place, meant he wasn’t opposed to this, wasn’t opposed to this at all.

 _Shit_ , she thought, _maybe I should stop this while I still can_.

Jane smirked. “I know what you’re doing.”

He did? Of course, he did, he was Patrick Jane, after all. She was transparent to him. “What am I doing?” she asked, languidly combing some of her hair behind her ear with her fingers.

“You’re trying to convince me you know how to let yourself go,” Jane answered, “so I will stop bugging you about Mashburn.”

It wasn’t what she was doing at all, and she was surprised this was what he thought she was doing. She was surprised … and disappointed. But there was no need for her to feel this way, no reason, because it wasn’t real, right? Should this turn into something more, should he make a move on her, she would reject him, right? _Right_? She decided then and there to find an answer to that question.

“Oh, you’re wrong,” she said with a small chuckle.

“I am?” He was confused by her answer, and he was scanning her face again.

She nodded. “You are.”

“Don’t mess with me, woman.” He sounded almost … angry?

Lisbon giggled. ( _Giggled_?) “This really bothers you, doesn’t it? You have no idea if I’m joking or not.”

“Oh, I can see right through you,” he assured her. “You just want to distract me from the topic at hand.”

They were moving in circles, dancing around each other. “What topic?” she asked innocently.

“You and Mashburn,” Jane answered.

And with that, they had come full circle. Time to break out.

“What if I don’t want to distract you?” she asked carefully. “Let’s say I was serious …”

“About what?”

Lisbon made a vague gesture, pointing at Jane, then at herself, and then back at Jane. She couldn’t actually say it though.

Jane sounded even more confused when he said, “You’re not.”

“Is that a question?” she asked, trying to retain some of the flirty undertone.

“You can’t be serious,” he insisted.

It was hard for her to keep this light and casual because the way he insisted on this being a joke hurt her. She didn’t want to feel hurt, but she couldn’t help it.

“But what if I were?” she pressed.

“Lisbon.” So, no more _Teresa_. Only graveness. “You can’t.”

“Why not?” she asked defiantly, her jaw set tight, her chin pushed forward.

“You know why,” was all he said.

Lisbon’s gaze flicked to his wedding ring for a brief moment, and that was enough to break the spell. He was right … she couldn’t be serious, _mustn’t_ be serious. “Red John,” she said.

“Yes,” he confirmed.

“I’m sorry, Jane, I got carried away,” she apologized. She felt sick all of a sudden, and she wasn’t enjoying herself anymore. The food tasted stale, the wine tasted bitter, and the sunset had lost all its magic. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

She felt a pain in her chest and her throat was clogged by a lump. But she refused to cry in front of Jane, especially about something as silly as him rejecting her flirtatious advances. And she hadn’t even been serious in the first place.

Jane, however, looked as sorry as she felt. “No, Lisbon, it’s fine. I was provoking you.” He looked at her then, long and hard, as if he was trying to remember every detail about this moment. And maybe he was. “You are a beautiful woman, Lisbon. Mashburn would be lucky to have you.”

Lisbon tried to laugh, but it came out hollow, devoid of all mirth. “He sure would.”

“Any man would be lucky to have you,” Jane added.

Yes, any man, except the one she was trying to flirt with. “Maybe …,” she started.

“Lisbon.” It sounded very serious. “If these were different circumstances …”

“Jane, you don’t have to be nice about it,” she said quickly. She didn’t want his pity.

“I mean it, Lisbon,” he insisted. “Hey, look at me.”

She hadn’t even noticed her eyes were focused on a couple behind them who were sharing dessert. Reluctantly, she looked back at her opposite.

“I mean it,” he said empathetically. “You _are_ a beautiful woman. It’s just that I’m not a lucky man.”

“That is probably the smoothest rejection I’ve ever received,” she managed to say.

“It’s not a rejection, I …” But he left her stuck for an answer. Instead, he changed the subject. “Maybe later, once we’re done with dinner, would you join me for a walk on the beach?”

This change came so suddenly Lisbon had no time to think before accepting his offer. “Yes, all right.”

But things were awkward between them now, just at Lisbon had expected they would be all that time ago in that motel room. Only, it wasn’t Jane’s fault. It was hers.

“Thank you, Jane.” She only said it to break the silence and it took her a moment to think of something she was thanking him for. “For cheering me up like this.” She wasn’t cheery anymore, she wasn’t relaxed, she just wanted to go home, crawl into bed, and sleep for a day.

“Did it work?” he asked carefully.

“It did,” she lied.

He noticed. “You know what would make you even happier?”

“What’s that?” she asked, knowing full well there wasn’t anything that could cheer her up right now.

Jane waved his hand to catch the attention of the waiter. “Ice cream.”


	9. Blood Money

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You cannot keep using that as an excuse,” Jane told her forcefully. “Either you’re telling me what’s going on right now or you never mention it again, but you cannot keep toying with me like this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is the final chapter for s2. I decided to expand one of my favorite scenes in the entire show because there was something Lisbon wanted to say to Jane when they were stuck in that shipping container in the desert, only she never got the chance to say it.
> 
> I've also come to terms with the fact that updating this fic every day is much more stressful than I had anticipated. I spend all my spare time working on it, so I will slow down from now on and only update it every three days. But that'll also give you guys more time to catch up.

**Prompt:** that didn’t stop you before

* * *

It was hot inside the shipping container. Jane had no idea where they were, but he guessed they were somewhere south, judging by the sunlight he could see through the small cracks on the side of their prison. And judging by the heat. God, it was hot! He couldn’t focus on anything else except the temperature in the metal container and his thirst. He would do almost anything for a glass of water right now.

What didn’t help getting over his discomfort was Lisbon banging at the side of the container, shouting, screaming. There was no one out there to hear them, he was sure of it, so there really was no point in her wasting her breath and her energy like this. But he couldn’t be angry with her for trying. She was in this situation because of him, because he had called her. And she wasn’t even on duty right now, which made the whole situation worse. She could be safe at home, curled up with a good book on her couch.

Only that wasn’t the Lisbon he knew. The Lisbon he knew liked danger.

Then he finally caught a breeze coming in through the cracks and it brought the relief he had been seeking. He closed his eyes in bliss, enjoying it for a few moments, then decided to invest his newfound strength and calmness into cheering Lisbon up.

“Why so grumpy?” he asked, when Lisbon stopped banging her fists. “It’s not like we’re going to die in here. The Drabers don’t want us dead.” He was eighty percent sure of that, at least. “Come here, and get a little bit of this breeze. It’ll cheer you up. Come here.” She glared at him, even when he was smiling and waving his hand invitingly, “It’s not quite as nice as a river breeze, but it’s not bad.” She finally did as he had asked and joined him by the window, closing her eyes and letting her head fall against the wall. “You feeling that? Good.”

She was standing in front of him, close to him, and she was quiet now, so he could finally come up with a plan to get them out of there, preferably alive.

“River breeze,” Lisbon repeated drowsily. Then, “Wait a minute.” She turned around to face him. “I live nowhere near the docks.”

“Well, that’s good,” he mumbled. “It’s a terrible neighborhood.”

“You said you called me because I was closer, but the HQ is only fifteen minutes from the docks,” Lisbon pointed out.

Oh, she was good. “I’m … I’m just … I’m just bad with distances, always have been,” Jane replied quickly.

“Patrick Jane.” A smile spread across her face. It felt good to see her smile. “You were trying to help me. You were. You thought if I made a big bust, the PSU would get off my back.”

“You know, I’m always going to save you, Lisbon, whether you like it or not.” He knew she didn’t like it, if their previous conversations were anything to go by. But that wouldn’t stop him from trying.

And, sure enough, she said, “I don’t need to be saved. I knew this would end in disaster the day I signed on with you.” She didn’t sound resentful when she said it. It was just part of the job, like her badge or her gun. Only, she didn’t have either of these things at the moment. “One day, I’m going to get fired because of you. That’s just the way it is.”

“Well, some people might ask why you signed on with me in the first place,” Jane pointed out. He thought he could feel the heat radiating from her body, that’s how close they were standing together. But, then again, everything felt hot at the moment.

“We catch a lot of bad guys,” Lisbon answered. “Most days, that’s enough. Also, I …” She looked away suddenly, turned her face toward the darkness of the container around them. She seemed unsure.

“Yes?” Jane prompted.

“You know what, forget it.” She turned away entirely then.

She couldn’t keep doing that, avoiding him like this, acting as if there was something important she had to say to him and then changing her mind at the last second. It was turning into a habit, one he didn’t want her to adapt because he was getting sick of it.

He grabbed her arm and pulled her back. “No, Lisbon, just tell me.” His voice sounded harsh, but he didn’t regret the tone. He wanted her to finally let him in.

Lisbon looked down at his hand locked tightly around her arm, and, for a second, he was scared she would punch him, but instead, she softly took his hand into hers and squeezed it. She lowered both their hands and then let go. “Again, this is neither the time nor the place …,” she started.

“You cannot keep using that as an excuse,” Jane told her forcefully. “Either you’re telling me what’s going on right now or you never mention it again, but you cannot keep toying with me like this.”

For once, he didn’t have himself under control. For once, he had no idea why this was upsetting him so. It shouldn’t. He should be careful around her. Two months ago, when he had taken her out to dinner, they’d had a close call. And, since then, they had been avoiding personal conversations, which, Jane knew, was for the better. Except for one instance in a lab a few weeks ago, when Lisbon had thought they were both going to die.

But now he didn’t care anymore. There was something she had been meaning to tell him for months and he didn’t want to let it go, not now, not that they were actually in danger of losing their lives.

“I know there’s something on your mind,” he added, his voice softer, “something you’ve been meaning to tell me for some time now, so just say it.”

Lisbon stared at him, her eyes wide. He rarely let her see him upset because it always frightened her, and he hadn’t meant to snap like this, but it was too hot and stuffy to keep his emotions in check. And if they were dying anyway because of him, there was no point in holding back anymore.

“I had no idea this was bothering you so much,” she said in the same soft voice he had used on her.

“Of course it does,” he told her in a tone that signaled he was shocked she hadn’t been able to see the obvious.

Lisbon bit her lip. “But you keep secrets from me all the time.”

He huffed. “It’s hardly the same.” It was exactly the same. He would rather leave her than tell her the truth about how he felt. He would rather hurt himself by never seeing her again than by being selfish and breaking her heart. Or killing her, like he had killed his wife and child.

To his surprise, she agreed with him. “You’re right, it’s not a secret. It’s something you might use against me when we’re fighting or when you want to manipulate me.”

Did she really think so little of him? He had to know. “Do you really think so little of me?”

He saw that she didn’t. It was just another excuse not to tell him the truth. “No, of course not, I …” She hesitated.

And then it suddenly hit him, and he understood what this was about. It explained the hesitation and the soft voice she was using to talk to him. This was about him rejecting her advances two months ago. He didn’t feel angry or upset with her because she was reacting this way, but he was angry with himself for having let it come so far in the first place.

Lisbon, however, had no idea he had figured it out. “It’s just something I realized while we were waiting in the Winthrop mansion. It has nothing to do with anything that has happened since.”

And, as it turned out, he also hadn’t figured it out. So it didn’t have anything to do with him acting jealous and then refusing her when she was offering herself to him. “Oh,” he made.

“And it’s not something grand or earth-shattering, as you seem to be expecting,” Lisbon went on. “It’s really quite simple.” She took a deep breath then and searched for his eyes with hers. Only when he returned her gaze did she continue. “I put up with you, and I will continue to put up with you because you get the job done. You catch the bad guys and I make sure we follow the law, at least mostly.”

Jane shrugged cautiously. She had already told him that at the beginning of their conversation. It wasn’t news to him, and it definitely wasn’t what she had wanted to say to him.

“But I also see you as a friend.” She hurried to add, “I know that’s nothing new to you, but I haven’t had that many close friends in my life. And I’m thankful I have you to rely on, most of the time. And that you’re there for me when I need you.”

She had been right – it wasn’t what he had expected to hear her say. It was much more than that, it exceeded his expectations by a long shot. He knew they were friends, had been for a couple of years now, but hearing her say how much she appreciated his being in her life almost made his heart stop, and strain to reach out for her in longing. He also knew he didn’t deserve any of it. He was selfish and careless, he only ever thought about himself and his own needs. They wouldn’t be locked inside this container if it wasn’t for him. They wouldn’t be in mortal danger if he didn’t think he was invincible because, well, he was Patrick Jane.

Jane continued to stare at Lisbon and didn’t reply to what she had said, and it was making Lisbon feel uncertain. “Would you say something, please?” she asked, her voice quiet.

Before Jane could stop himself or think better of it, he closed the short distance between them and pulled Lisbon into a tight hug. He could feel the air coming out of her lungs in a small huff, felt it against his cheek, and then her arms were wound tightly around him as she hugged him back. He knew she didn’t like being hugged, but this was different. They both needed the contact and for once, neither of them was strong enough to push the other away. Jane tightened his hold on her, suddenly terrified she would change her mind and breathed in deeply (she smelled of mango, it was odd, he wouldn’t have associated that smell with her), determined to commit every little detail of this to memory.

“I’m sorry, Teresa,” he mumbled against her soft, dark hair.

Lisbon’s reply was also mumbled, almost inaudible, against his shoulder. “For what?”

They had been here before, countless times. “Do you want the long version or the abridged one?” Jane asked with a chuckle. He wasn’t sure they would get through the long version before they were rescued or before they died of thirst.

“There are things you should be sorry for, but I’m pretty sure you’re not thinking of a single one of them.” She wasn’t resentful; she was teasing him.

“I’m sorry we’re in this situation because of me,” Jane replied, since this was the most pressing matter at hand. “I’m sorry I was jealous of Bosco.” It hadn’t been his place. “I’m sorry I never listen to you.” He wasn’t really sorry for that, but it would do her good to think he was. “I’m sorry I hurt you the other day.” He was sorry he had let her come so close that his rejection had been so hard on her.

“That didn’t stop you before.” She finally let go of him and took a step back. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears and he pretended not to notice because he knew she would be embarrassed if she was forced to cry in front of him. “But if telling you I value our friendship gets me that reaction, I should be honest with you more often.”

He would hug her every day if she would let him, he didn’t need an excuse to do that. “Yeah, maybe …,” he said with a smirk.

Lisbon rolled her eyes. “Listen, Jane, I’m also sorry.”

“For what?” He said it too quickly, a note of panic in his voice. There was nothing she needed to be sorry for and it pained him to hear she felt there was.

Now it was her turn to shrug. “You know, for giving you a hard time because of Bosco.” Yes, she didn’t need to be sorry for that since it had been his fault, not hers. “And for making things awkward between us.”

And she definitely didn’t need to be sorry for that. It had been his fault, and his fault alone – he had led her on and then not followed through.

He hurried to say, “You didn’t –”

But she interrupted him. “I know I did. Everyone noticed. Even Hightower.”

At the mention of their boss, Jane paused. Yes, she had made a remark about their relationship a few days ago, but Jane had assumed she had been talking about the fight they had had because Jane had broken into the house of a hitman and then had failed to get rid of the evidence. Lisbon, evidently, interpreted it differently.

“Lisbon, please, it wasn’t your fault,” he started again, but she still didn’t let him finish his thought.

“Would it kill you to let me talk for a change?” she asked, and there was tension written across her face now. “We might, you know, we might not be found …” It was a nice way of saying they could die, which Jane still refused to believe but which he knew was becoming increasingly more likely. “… and there’s things I need to say to you before that.”

It didn’t sound like the Lisbon he knew, but she had to be more scared of the possibility that they wouldn’t be found in time than she liked to admit. Even though his heart was pounding in his chest, he decided to listen to her for once, so he closed his mouth with ostentation and waited.

“I’m glad you walked into the CBI seven years ago. I know that what brought you to us was …” She paused to bite her lip again, and then didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t need to. “But if it were up to me, I wouldn’t change a single thing about what happened since then. I know I’m always giving you a hard time, but that’s only because you refuse to follow the rules. And when I say I will get fired one day because of you, I’m not saying it because I resent you for it, but because I want you to know it’s the price I’m willing to pay. Because no matter what will happen from here on out, whether we get out of this or not, I will be there for you. I owe you that much.”

Jane couldn’t believe his ears, couldn’t believe she would actually say things like this to him. Teresa Lisbon was the kindest person he knew, and he didn’t deserve her. He didn’t deserve all the things she was offering him, he didn’t deserve that she was willing to put her career at risk for him. He didn’t deserve her trust and friendship because if he had to choose between staying with her or catching Red John, he would choose the latter. And if she had to choose between staying with him or her career, she would choose the former. It was selfish of him not to tell her that, but he was afraid she would take it all back. And he couldn’t have that. He couldn’t change how much he wanted her, how much he wanted to be with her, how much he yearned for her.

“You don’t owe me anything,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “It should be the other way around."

There was a sad smile on her face when she said, “You would say that, of course. But I owe you, for all the things you taught me over the years.”

“You make it sound so final …”

Lisbon turned away from him then. “Would you be okay with us dying here?” she asked. “Without getting a chance to catch Red John?”

Jane hadn’t yet thought about this, about what it would mean if he were to die in this container. He had been so focused on keeping Lisbon safe and getting them out of this alive that anything beyond that point hadn’t been important.

“No, I wouldn’t be.” He felt he owed Lisbon an honest answer, and this was it. “and I would hate myself for getting you in danger without an exit strategy, but there is no one else I would rather spend my last hours with than with you.”

That part of Lisbon’s face he could see looked sad. “It’s also partly my fault. I shouldn’t have let you go to meet the Drabers.”

Only Lisbon would think this whole situation was her fault. “I know it might not mean much to you, but if we get out of here, I promise I will never put your life at risk like this ever again.” He had been careless – _again!_ – with the life of the one person who mattered to him the most, and he was determined never to repeat that mistake.

“Thanks,” Lisbon said, turning back to him. He couldn’t tell if she believed him though.

“And I’ll also be there for you,” Jane went on. “I want you to know you can count on me, whether you need help with a case or if you need me to hide a body.”

This finally made her laugh, and he couldn’t say for sure if it was the lack of oxygen or the heat or the sound itself, but it made his head swim.

“Lisbon.” She stopped laughing as he softly put his hand on her cheek and immediately leaned into his touch. “There’s also something I’ve been meaning to say to you.” If they were really going to die here, if Lisbon had already come to terms with their fate, then there was no harm in telling her how he really felt.

Her eyes were shining again, but it wasn’t from unshed tears this time. “What is it?”

Jane swallowed as his eyes darted to her lips. He was fully aware he shouldn’t do it, he knew he should ask for permission first, give her a chance to say no if she didn’t want him to, but the way she looked at him was confirmation enough of how much she wanted this. He leaned forward and she did too, ever so slightly, before suddenly pulling back.

“Did you hear that?” she asked. “It sounded like a goat.”


	10. Red Carpet Treatment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane laughed, a cold laugh, one she had never heard from him before, and a shiver ran down her spine. For the first time since she had met him, she actually felt afraid of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Red Carpet Treatment is such an underrated episode!!! I adore episodes that focus on Jane meeting someone who went through the same things he went through, and this episode does that really well.

**Prompt:** I told you so

* * *

Lisbon took a deep, steading breath, her eyes lowered to the dirty floor. When she raised her head, she found herself in front of the door to the attic, where she knew Jane was hiding from her. He had been trying to convince her for weeks he was using it for work-related purposes only, that it was just his office, but she was almost sure he lived there now. It wasn’t healthy behavior – no one should be living at work, no matter how important that work might be, but it was better than him spending his nights in some lonely motel room. This way, at least, she knew where to look for him.

There was also no lock on the door to the attic, which meant she could enter whenever she pleased, even without knocking. She knew it wasn’t a nice thing to do, but she had the feeling Jane was hiding something from her. She had seen him talk to Max Winter earlier, and the look on his face had scared her. If this was about his revenge, his hunt for Red John, and she was sure it was, he wouldn’t let her in until she pushed him to. Surprising him in his sanctuary was a first step to achieving this goal.

And sure enough, as soon as she had pushed the door open, she saw Jane shoving something under the pillow of the small bed he kept to the right side of the room. He was fast, too fast for her to be entirely sure what it was, but her instincts had been right.

For now, she decided to ignore the thing she had recognized as a wooden box and to start the conversation on neutral ground. “Jane, do you have a minute?”

“Do we have another case?” he asked, snapping to attention. He looked tired, he was in need of some rest, and Lisbon was glad they didn’t have to go back to work just yet.

“No, nothing like that …,” she assured him. “I just wanted to see if you were okay.”

She tried to push the memory of the look on his face out of her mind, but it was impossible. Jane wasn’t okay, she knew that, but there was no chance of him admitting he wasn’t.

A smile spread across his face and she couldn’t be certain whether it was sincere or not, but she had a feeling it wasn’t. “Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked.

“It was a tough case,” Lisbon answered. One that would haunt her for weeks to come.

“That’s what you think,” Jane shrugged off her answer.

Lisbon threw him a look she knew made him reconsider what he had just said. “You might be able to fool a studio audience and an investigative reporter, but you can’t fool me,” she told him in a firm voice that meant she wasn’t up to playing games with him this evening.

“I’m not trying to,” he assured her. “I’m just giving you an honest answer, but you still think I’m lying.”

Lisbon mentally took a step back before she enmeshed them both in another fight and shrugged. “May I?” she asked, pointing to a chair Jane kept in front of a small desk.

“Be my guest,” Jane invited, sitting down on the bed, one hand conspicuously near the pillow.

She had watched him work long enough to know people gravitated toward the things they desperately wanted to hide. _Lizard brain_ , he called it. Because she didn’t want him to know she had noticed, she looked out of the window, realized she could see the Tower Bridge from here. She also did it to bide her time – there was no way she could say what she had come here to say without Jane taking it badly and overacting, but she needed to give it a try at least, or she wouldn’t live up to her own expectations.

“Max Winter,” she said finally.

“Yes?” He said it in a steady tone of voice, neither inquisitive, nor teasing, nor cold.

“He was guilty after all,” she went on, hoping a small debate about the technicalities of the case would distract Jane enough so she could get him to open up.

“Meh,” he made.

“He went to Dahl’s room to kill him,” Lisbon pointed out. “I know that, legally speaking, he didn’t kill him, but it’s about the intention.” She paused, but when Jane didn’t try to fight her on this, she asked, “When did you figure out he might have done it?”

“I suspected he was guilty after speaking to him for two minutes,” Jane answered.

That would have been fast, even by Jane’s standards. “Really? Come on.”

“You know me and my methods, Lisbon.” The cocky smile on his face had her convinced. Almost.

“What tipped you off then?” she asked, craving an explanation. That was the police officer in her talking.

“ _Reconciliation_ ,” Jane answered, unable to keep the distain out of his voice. “No one forgives something like that.”

Lisbon bit her lip. “Have you tried it?” she asked softly, scared to hear the answer.

And she got what she had expected to hear. “No.”

“Then how do you know it doesn’t work?” she probed.

“Trust me, Lisbon, it doesn’t.” He wasn’t trying to persuade her, he was pointing out an obvious fact, like a clue at a crime scene she had missed.

“I saw you speaking to him earlier,” Lisbon went on, finally finding the courage to address the topic she had come here to discuss with him. “What did he say?”

Jane hesitated for a brief moment, for the fraction of a second, but she still noticed. “I asked him if it was worth it.”

“And what did he say?” Lisbon was beginning to feel tired by this game of question and answer. For every answer she got, she had to ask another question. It felt more and more like an interrogation with each passing minute.

“He said no.”

For some reason, Lisbon didn’t know why or how, she knew this was a lie. Jane would call it _a hunch_ , and he had been trying to get her to trust her instincts more, so she was prepared to try it. What irked her was that she had no way of proving he was lying, of course; he would only deny he was if she insisted, but she felt hurt, nevertheless.

“And you believe him?” she asked.

Jane shrugged again. “Meh.”

Oh, he was good at this. But he wasn’t counting on her having picked up some of his tricks along the way. Because she had just thought of another way to get him to admit the truth.

“But what if he’s right?” she asked, trying to sound casual. “What if you dedicate years of your life to hunting down one man, like Winter did, and when you finally succeed, you’ll just feel … nothing?”

“I’ve thought about this,” he admitted.

“And?”

“I don’t think I’ll fee nothing.” It was the answer she had been dreading to hear. “I think I’ll feel satisfaction, peace, I’ll have a sense of a job well done.”

Lisbon couldn’t do this anymore, couldn’t pretend she was fine with having this conversation. “You will feel nothing but regret.”

“How do you know?”

They were staring at each other now over the space of the attic. Lisbon could feel the distance between them stretch even farther, could feel Jane drifting away even though they should be coming closer together, even though a case like this should strengthen their bond, not weaken it.

“I’ve been there,” she answered.

Jane’s hand that was close to his pillow balled into a fist, tangled in his sheets. “No, you haven’t.”

“All right, it wasn’t the exact same situation, of course. I never …”

She shrugged, unable to say it. It would only lead to a discussion about whether Jane was responsible for his family’s death. She couldn’t have that discussion, not today, because whenever they talked about it, whenever Jane was forced to relive that time in his life, she could see it in his eyes, in his demeanor, could see the shame, the guilt, could see how it was eating him up from the inside, could see how it was slowly killing him. It hurt her too much to see him like this, and even though she knew that feeling was selfish, seeing that pain he carried around with him was enough to cause her immense pain too, and she couldn’t deal with that today.

“But I’ve killed people before,” she said finally, “bad people, people who probably deserved it. Or worse. And never once have I felt peace afterwards. The only thing I feel is regret, regret at not having found another way out of that situation.”

“You’d understand if you had gone through the same thing I went through,” Jane said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Lisbon could feel a lump in her throat now and swallowed hard. “But I did go through the same thing with my mom.” She knew this would definitely trigger a discussion about guilt now, but Jane was so stubborn she felt like she didn’t have any choice. If she hurt herself along the way, then so be it. “I told you so, remember? A drunk driver killed my mom.”

And, sure enough, as certain as the sun rose in the east each morning, he said, “But that wasn’t your fault.”

“You’re right, it wasn’t,” she replied. “But your wife and daughter being killed also wasn’t your fault.”

Jane laughed, a cold laugh, one she had never heard from him before, and a shiver ran down her spine. For the first time since she had met him, she actually felt afraid of him.

Despite this feeling, she tried to stay calm. “And yet, I never once wanted to kill the man responsible for my mom’s death.”

Now it was Jane’s turn not to believe her. “Come one, Lisbon, you cannot tell me you didn’t lie awake at night, imagining yourself holding a gun to his head, imagining your fingers closing around his throat, imagining what it would feel like to watch the life drain out of his eyes.”

His words made her feel sick. “I imagined him getting punished for what he did, but not like that.”

“It’s the reason you went to join the police,” Jane observed, “to keep men like him off the streets. To hurt men like him.”

Lisbon pushed herself out of the chair, so she was standing, ready to leave the room if she found herself unable to take any more of this conversation. “No.”

“Then you don’t know what it feels like,” Jane insisted. “You don’t have any right to tell me how I’ll feel once I’ve killed Red John.”

She couldn’t imagine what she had done to him that he was being so cruel to her all of a sudden. She had only tried to be there for him, to console him, because she had been worried about him. He did it for her all the time, but when she tried to be a good friend to him, all he did was hurt her.

“Jane, I know this case upset you,” she said slowly, trying to push down the lump that was steadily rising up through her tight throat. “I’m just trying to be a good friend and look after you.”

“Friends are supposed to support each other,” Jane pointed out.

Now it was Lisbon’s turn to laugh coldly. “Not in this. Not when it’s about murder or revenge or getting hurt. Friends are supposed to protect each other.”

Then the moment had passed, and she could see Patrick Jane in his eyes again, the Jane who was good and kind, the Jane who drove her crazy sometimes but also cared for her like no one had cared for her before.

“You’re doing that, Lisbon.” There was no trace of the coldness left in his voice. “You’re doing enough.”

“I’m not.” She wasn’t trying to get him to tell her how much she meant to him, she really did feel like she wasn’t doing enough. If she had been doing her best these past few years, then he wouldn’t be thinking the way he was.

“You are. You’re a pocket rocket, remember?” Jane said emphatically.

He was only saying that to appease her, but she immediately thought back to his teasing introduction on Karen Cross’ show and it almost made her smile. Almost. She wanted that Jane back, not the one disfigured by revenge. “You see what revenge did to Max Winter?” she asked him. “What it did to his family? He might go to prison now, and then his son won’t have anyone. Take it from someone who’s been in the position of Jackson Winter. Losing one parent is hard enough, watching the other one destroying themselves through guilt and shame and alcohol is unbearable.”

“I don’t have any children, remember?” It was a simple fact, one he calmly used however he saw fit.

But two could play at the game of distorting facts. “Doesn’t have to be children.”

“You know the day you signed on with me how this would end,” Jane reminded her, using something she had admitted to him in a moment of vulnerability against her.

“And I promised myself to stop you from doing anything you might regret,” she reminded him.

“Good, then you can let me go ahead, because I promise you, I won’t regret it.”

She paused, remembering why she had started talking to him about this in the first place. This wasn’t about her or her feelings toward his plans, this was about trying to pull him back out of the dark.

“Max Winter regretted it.” _Or, at least, that’s what you want me to think_.

“No, he didn’t.”

And there it was: the truth. Finally. Its pursuit had caused her pain again, had shown her a side of Jane she was desperate to forget, that she never wanted to see again. But it had gotten her what she had wanted. Only, the price might have been too high.

Innocently, she started, “But you said –”

There was a crooked smile on Jane’s face before she could even finish the sentence. “I know what you’re doing, Lisbon,” he told her. “You’re trying to beat me at my own game. Believe me, if I hadn’t wanted you to know what he really said, I would’ve kept my mouth shut.”

As was so often the case, Lisbon found his cockiness infuriating. Usually, that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but today it was. “You think you’re so smart. You think no one can touch you, that you’re invincible.”

“I don’t think so,” Jane contradicted her.

Before he could say, “I know so,” she went on. “Just like you think I didn’t notice you hiding something from me when I came into the room. I noticed.”

“I know you did.” He suddenly had the air of a kind schoolteacher about him, a teacher who knew his pupil was angry at him, but it was a simple misunderstanding, and if he gave her a couple of minutes to figure it out, she could draw the right conclusion herself.

“What was it?” Lisbon asked, trying to keep calm.

“That’s a secret I’m going to keep.”

“All right,” Lisbon said, trying to act as if she didn’t care. She walked to the middle of the room, then stopped. “I’ll be going home then.”

“You do that.” Jane’s voice was kind, but it had a venomous edge to it. “Sleep well.”

Lisbon glared at him.

“Lisbon, you threatening to leave won’t make me reveal my secret,” he said with a knowing smile.

“You know, one day I might not come back.” It wasn’t as if she hadn’t thought about leaving him for good before. The trouble was, she wasn’t sure if she was strong enough to go through with it.

Apparently, she wasn’t the only one who had thought about this. “I have considered that,” Jane revealed.

“And?” she pressed. “Are you about to tell me I won’t be strong enough?” _Are you about to tell me what I’ve been thinking all along?_

“No, I think it would be for the better,” Jane replied. “At least you would be safe then.”

With a deep sigh, she asked, “From what?”

“Red John …,” he answered, before adding, “and me.”

“You like this, don’t you? You get off on being a martyr,” Lisbon observed. Now it was her turn to act coldly, unkindly, as if she didn’t care about Jane’s feelings. “Well, if you like it that much, then you won’t need me in future.”

She remembered how, a few months ago, when they had thought they were about to die, she had promised Jane she would always be there for him, no matter what. And now she was breaking that promise for her sake, because she was selfish, because there was only so far she would allow Jane to push her.

Judging from the look on Jane’s face, he, too, was remembering the promise she had given him. “I’m glad you finally see it.”

There was nothing stopping her now from telling him how she really felt. “You are a cruel man, Patrick Jane.”

He nodded. “I know.”

Without saying another word, Lisbon left the room. As she closed the door behind her, she felt guilty yet relieved. For a moment, she wanted to go back and tell Jane she hadn’t meant it, but she knew the healthy thing was to put some space between herself and him for now. It wasn’t as if she didn’t care about him – she would never stop caring about him, no matter what he did. But she needed to think about herself for a while (as selfish as that might make her seem) because talking to Jane about all of this, about Red John, his family, his plans for revenge, was exhausting her.

She was worried for Jane, more than she had ever been worried for anyone else. That’s why she wanted to go back to him. Wanting to save him was futile, she knew that; she also knew he would betray her one day if it meant he would catch Red John. Still, she would try to help him, to keep him safe.

But for now, she needed a break from all of this. She needed to think about herself for a while, meet someone who wasn’t Jane, someone who didn’t make her question everything she believed in, who didn’t made her angry yet unbelievably happy at the same time. For now, she just needed some normal human interaction, in whatever size and shape she could get it.


	11. Red Hot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I wouldn’t have pursued it had I thought Mashburn was dangerous,” he answered seriously. “That he would hurt you. He didn’t hurt you, did he? He didn’t break your heart?” Because if he had, then Mashburn was in serious trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the last chapter was darker, so the next few chapters will be a bit more light-hearted. I love angsty fics, but I also enjoy writing about Jane and Lisbon having a good time.

**Prompt:** I never wanted anything else

* * *

Jane watched as Lisbon’s car pulled up to the crime scene. He glanced at his watch – she was late. In all the years he had known her, she never had been late to a crime scene, not once. She was too much of a professional to let that happen. But he had his suspicions why she was late this morning, and when he watched her get out of the car, those suspicions were confirmed. She looked relaxed, almost happy, and didn’t mind people staring at her. He hadn’t been the only one who had noticed her tardiness, and, usually, it would have irked her, people noticing. But she didn’t mind. She kept her eyes on Jane as she walked toward him, looking well rested, even though she couldn’t have gotten much sleep last night.

Jane knew exactly where she had spent the night. And he was happy for her. About a year ago, he had decided not to feel jealous anymore if there was a man in Lisbon’s life. And he heeded that resolution. Lisbon could do worse than Mashburn, he supposed, and he was fairly certain it had only been a one-night stand anyway, so even if he wouldn’t have been over his jealousy at this point, there really was no reason for him to worry. So as Lisbon walked toward him, he decided he would be a good friend and tease her, nothing more.

“Morning, Lisbon,” he said with a huge grin on his face as she reached the yellow crime scene tape.

At this, Lisbon immediately went back to her old, grumpy self. “Oh, don’t start, Jane.”

“What?” he asked innocently, lifting the crime scene tape, so she could join him on the other side.

Lisbon followed his invitation and looked at the dead man on the ground before asking, “So, what’s the situation?”

Jane wouldn’t let her off the hook that easily. “Between you and Mashburn?” he asked, his eyes also on the corpse. “I don’t know. I thought you might tell me.”

When he glanced at Lisbon, he saw her blushing, but not much. He was happy she wasn’t embarrassed by the whole affair because there really was no reason for her to be.

“I meant the case,” Lisbon clarified.

“Oh, that.” Jane waved his hand dismissively, acting as if it wasn’t as important as what was going on in Lisbon’s life. “Jealousy.”

Lisbon crouched down next to the corpse, her elbows on her knees, her head slightly tilted to one side. “I need a bit more information than that.”

Jane mirrored her, so they were on the same level again. He considered teasing her about being late, because if she hadn’t been, she would know by now what was going on, but then decided against it. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he offered instead.

“Jane …”

A warning.

“Oh, I’ve missed this.”

He really had. Their relationship had felt strained these past few weeks, ever since their fight in his attic room after the Max Winter case. But her calling him _Jane_ in that tone of voice, the one that meant she was about to lose her patience, relieved him. She only ever used it when they were on good terms.

“Let’s just focus on the case,” she said, professional as always.

Since Jane hadn’t complied with Lisbon’s request, it was up to Rigsby to give her a short summary of the case. Jane waited, waited for Rigsby to finish, waited until Lisbon had examined the corpse once again, waited for the right moment to tell her he already knew who had committed the murder (the ex) and how they would be able to catch her (faked bank statements). But he knew Lisbon didn’t like to be interrupted when she was thinking, so the best way to get her to listen to him was to wait for her to finish her train of thought.

When she made a disgruntled huff, Jane asked, “Do you want to get coffee?”

“Jane, we’re working,” Lisbon reminded him unnecessarily.

“Let me buy you a coffee,” he offered, “and I’ll tell you who did it.” She was more likely to listen to him with caffeine in her system. Jane knew she hadn’t had time this morning to get some.

“You know what?” Lisbon said, clapping her hands together once. “Fine. Let’s go.” She walked past him, back to her car, this time lifting the crime scene tape herself. Jane followed her, his hands clasped behind his back.

As he climbed into her car, he felt the need to explain himself. “Rigsby drove me here.” It sounded almost like an apology.

Lisbon ignored it. “Where do you want to go?” she asked instead.

“There’s a great little place around the corner …,” Jane answered, but before he could finish giving Lisbon instructions how to get there, she had already sped off.

It took Lisbon no more than three minutes to get to the coffeeshop, and it would have taken her even less time, had she not had to look for parking. Once that was settled, Jane got a coffee for her and tea for himself, before they sat down in front of the shop in the warm morning sun, watching traffic rush past.

“You look well this morning,” Jane remarked, toasting her with his disposable teacup, holding onto the teabag tightly so it wouldn’t slip into the hot water.

Lisbon threw him a wary glance.

“So, how’s Mashburn?” Jane asked innocently.

“How would I know?” Lisbon evaded the question.

Jane raised an eyebrow at her. “Do you really want to me to answer that?”

“My personal life is none of your business,” Lisbon reminded him, as she had done so often.

Jane decided to agree with her, so she would be more likely to share information with him. “It’s not, you’re right …,” he admitted. “I just thought … you know, sometimes friends talk about this kind of stuff.”

Now it was Lisbon’s turn to raise an eyebrow at him. “So you can be jealous again? I don’t think so.”

Jane smiled softly at her. It was only natural she would think like this, and he couldn’t really blame her for it. The last time there had been the possibility of a man in her life, he hadn’t exactly acted like a gentleman.

“So, how was he?” Jane asked, getting straight to the point.

“Jane!” Lisbon didn’t even sound offended, just shocked.

“It’s good for you. This,” Jane made a vague gesture with his hand, “whatever this is between you and Mashburn.”

“There’s nothing between him and me,” Lisbon insisted.

“Should I be insulted by your denial?” he asked teasingly, taking a sip from his still too hot tea.

Lisbon finally admitted it then. “It was just a one-night stand.”

Jane had expected it would hurt him to hear her say something along those lines. Even though he always tried to keep his feelings concerning Lisbon under control, he had had no idea how he would actually react to hearing news like this. But now he had to discover he really didn’t mind. And it was a relief for him because it meant he had actually succeeded in keeping his feelings under control.

“Good …,” he said slowly, “it did you good … you look good.”

His bumbling attempts to be a supportive friend made Lisbon laugh. “Are you all right?”

“Sure I am,” he answered with a shrug and a smile. “I really do think it’s good for you. It takes the edge off. You’re … relaxed.”

Lisbon stopped laughing and looked at him, a serious expression on her face. There was still a twinkle left in her eyes though. “What kind of game are you playing?”

“No game. I’m just genuinely happy for you … as a friend.”

“But you …,” Lisbon started, not sure how she should finish this sentence.

“No but,” Jane assured her. “It was me who suggested it, remember? I immediately noticed he liked you, and it was obvious you liked him, too.”

“How was that obvious?” She moved her head then, so the morning sun caught in her hair. She really looked good this morning; Jane wasn’t exaggerating when he kept mentioning it.

“Your pupils were dilated,” he answered.

“I thought you said his were.”

“Yes, and yours,” he insisted.

This time, she really did blush, and not just a slight flush that could have been explained by the warm sunlight on her face, but she blushed like a schoolgirl talking about her first crush. “Did anyone else notice?”

That almost made Jane laugh. It was just like Lisbon to worry about what everyone else thought of her, even though she kept insisting her personal life wasn’t anyone’s business. “Mashburn did, I guess,” Jane answered teasingly. “And his ex-fiancée.”

“How …?” Lisbon started, but Jane didn’t need her to finish the question.

“You were genuinely upset when you thought he was the killer,” he explained, thinking back to the look of hurt and disappointment she’d had on her face. “I know you aren’t a good liar, so I figured your feelings were genuine.”

Carefully, she asked, “And you’re okay with this?”

She really shouldn’t worry about him, not now she had found so much confidence to get the things she really wanted. Lowering his eyes to his teacup, he asked, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Oh.” That made him look up. He watched as several emotions rushed across Lisbon’s face until it finally settled on a look of relief. “I just thought …”

“Again, Lisbon, I suggested it. I’m looking out for you, as a friend.”

“I didn’t think you were serious.”

He knew that was his fault and his alone. He had been anything but supportive in the past because he was selfish. But this would change from now on.

“I wouldn’t have pursued it had I thought Mashburn was dangerous,” he answered seriously. “That he would hurt you. He didn’t hurt you, did he? He didn’t break your heart?” Because if he had, then Mashburn was in serious trouble.

Lisbon only giggled, and she did that so rarely Jane was caught off-guard by it. “You know, I think I might have broken his.”

“That’s my girl,” Jane said with a pat to her lower arm.

Lisbon grinned at him broadly.

“I promise you, Lisbon, I’m fine with it,” he continued. “No more jealousy.”

Lisbon sighed happily. “You know, you were right – this is good coffee.”

Jane felt something shift between them. There had been some kind of break-through just now. Lisbon trusted him again, as a friend. When he realized that, he felt as if a big weight had been lifted off his chest. Everything felt right between them again, not like they were struggling to keep an already decaying relationship alive.

“You should listen to me more often,” he pointed out.

“Maybe I will,” Lisbon agreed. “You keep making good suggestions.”

With a content sigh, Jane admitted, “I never wanted anything else.”

She punched his arm playfully.

“Not that it’s any of my business, but what made you change your mind?” he asked then. “Regarding Mashburn, I mean?” He wasn’t really interested in the answer, but the wanted to keep the conversation going. He quickly felt himself getting addicted to the feeling of having Lisbon as his close friend, his confidante, and he wasn’t ready to let go of that feeling just yet.

“It wasn’t you, if that’s what you want to hear,” Lisbon told him.

“I like to think I played some part in it,” he teased. After all, he had planted the thought of her and Mashburn in her head in the first place by bringing up the billionaire frequently.

“In the end, it was Mashburn’s charm,” Lisbon answered, but she almost couldn’t make it through the sentence without bursting into laughter.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Jane said, and meant it.

Lisbon shrugged. “I don’t know … the more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea of what he was offering. We’re both independent people. He isn’t scared of taking what he wants, and I’m not scared of …” But she didn’t finish the sentence; she didn’t reveal what it was that didn’t scare her.

Jane knew exactly what she was referring to, but he also understood why she wouldn’t say it out loud. After all, this was a very personal matter, and Lisbon was a very private person. “Anyway,” he said, to make her more comfortable, “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. You deserve to be happy.” He paused, putting a short break before his next question. “Will you be seeing him again?”

And there it was, a small pang of jealousy. He had to discover he could deal with Lisbon having meaningless sex with men, but the thought of her getting into a serious relationship, and therefore steadily drifting away from him, made his insides boil.

“No, I won’t,” Lisbon replied casually.

“And he’s fine with that?” Jane knew Lisbon was fine with it, but Mashburn was a wealthy, powerful man. If he set his mind on something, he would achieve it. Even if that what he wanted was a person. Jane knew Mashburn wouldn’t hurt Lisbon, but he had the time and resources to pursue her if he was serious about her.

“I’m fine with it,” Lisbon replied, “and that is the only thing that should count.”

Jane suddenly saw her in a very different light. He had always known she was highly independent but the way she was acting now, self-assured and at peace with herself, at peace with what she wanted, not afraid of pursuing that which made her happy, this new side to Lisbon was quite attractive to him.

He smirked. “I think so, too.”

He had been right all along with what he had observed about her two years ago – she liked her men with no strings attached, with the possibility to leave them without much fuss when she didn’t feel like being with them anymore. What had momentarily made him believe he had been wrong all along was her flirting with him the last time they had worked on a case where Mashburn had been involved. But then it occurred to him that Lisbon’s perception of him might have changed – maybe she was thinking that because Jane was committed to catching a serial killer, he would be able to offer her what she was looking for. After all, he didn’t have any room for commitment next to his pursuit for revenge.

He pushed any thoughts leading in that direction out of his mind. He wasn’t supposed to be thinking like this, not after he had done so well burying his feelings up to that point.

“We should get back to the office,” Lisbon decided. “And you promised me to tell me who killed our victim.”

Jane sighed. “It’s always work with you, isn’t it?”

“I think I’ve proven to you that’s not the case.”

Lisbon had a smile on her face that Jane would call almost wicked. He really liked her like this.

“The ex-girlfriend did it,” he revealed.

“Ah, jealousy,” Lisbon observed.

“Yes.”

“Wouldn’t that be too obvious though?” she asked.

“The simplest solution often is the right one,” Jane reminded her. “There are no vast conspiracies in real life.”

“Yeah,” Lisbon made, “but killing someone when the motive is that obvious …”

“It was a crime of passion. He was beaten to death with a paper weight,” Jane pointed out. “If it had been anyone else, they wouldn’t have acted so rash.”

“Very well then. I’ll have Cho bring her in for questioning.” She pulled her phone out of her jacket pocket and dialed Cho’s number.

“Tell Cho to ask her about their joint bank account,” Jane said quickly.

As Lisbon talked to Cho, Jane’s gaze wandered from the busy street in front of them to Lisbon next to him. She had shifted from his friend to his boss in a matter of seconds and he was intrigued by that transformation. He listened to her giving Cho orders and even ask for the joint bank account. Then he leaned back and closed his eyes, enjoying the morning sun on his face. He felt happy and at ease, even though there was a long day of work ahead of him.

“Cho says there is no joint bank account,” Lisbon said after she had hung up.

“Oh, there is, believe me.” Jane stood up and stretched, then offered Lisbon his arm. “Shall we?”

Lisbon had a confused look on her face, as if she was trying to figure out what game he was playing now. But she took his arm, nevertheless. “Back to work?”

“Life isn’t all fun and games.”

“You can stop teasing me now,” Lisbon said with a sigh.

“Will you let me drive if I do?”

“On second thought, tease me all you want.”


	12. Red Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There they were, sitting next to each other on Jane’s unused bed. Both were quiet, staring ahead at the floor, avoiding each other’s gaze. It was more awkward than Lisbon had thought it would be, and suddenly she wanted nothing more than be back in her own bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Red Moon is my second favorite episode Simon directed, so of course I had to include it in this fic. And I wanted to write about my favorite thing: Jane and Lisbon sitting around a motel room late at night, talking ...

**Prompt:** not interested, thank you

* * *

It was late at night. Lisbon avoided glancing at her watch because she didn’t want to know how late it really was. It would only stress her out and make it even harder for her to find sleep. She blamed the full moon for her insomnia. It wasn’t as if she believed the moon had magic powers that made people go crazy once a month. But its light was bright, and it kept her up, no matter how tightly she shut the curtains. She knew it was there and whenever her eyes drifted toward the windows, she imagined it was laughing at her and her ineptitude to find rest.

Lisbon turned on the TV and tried to focus on some stupid game show. When she had been little, her mother had suffered from insomnia. She had been a nurse and alternating day and night shifts had messed up her sleep schedule. Whenever her mother couldn’t sleep, she had watched reruns of _Dallas_ until she had fallen asleep in front of the TV. Lisbon tried the same now, but it didn’t work. And instead of making her tired, it had the opposite effect, because when the game show host said the phrase “with a grain of salt”, she remembered something Jane had said to her earlier today.

_What do you mean, you’re in control of the situation?_

He was right – she wasn’t.

_I just assumed you took that judge and jury stuff with a grain of salt._

He was right – she did.

_You know the reality will be different. Red John is mine. And I will exact my revenge on him._

He was right – he would.

And she would let him.

That didn’t change the fact she needed to be in control of the situation, needed it as fish needed water, as plants needed the sunlight, as she needed to be there for Jane to make sure he was all right. One simply couldn’t exist without the other. Not being in control bothered her, and Jane knew it bothered her. He even enjoyed it to some extent. And if she could, in spite of her better judgement, she would make sure Red John ended up behind bars and not in the ground.

Lisbon still couldn’t sleep. And she finally decided to give up trying because it was no use. It was no use pretending the moon was the reason for her restlessness when it was, in fact, Jane. She didn’t want to fight with him, she just wanted to talk, and if they didn’t mention Red John or revenge, she would be happy. She needed to talk to him as a friend. Luckily, he had never been more available than tonight. After all, he was right next door, and if Lisbon knew anything about him, it was that he would surely be lying awake as well.

Before she could change her mind, she got out of bed, switched off the TV, and walked out of her room, straight to his door.

She knocked.

He opened it with a look of surprise on his face that quickly turned to concern when he realized who she was.

“Lisbon, what’s wrong?” he asked.

“Can’t sleep,” Lisbon mumbled. She glanced past him into his room, wishing he would invite her inside. It was cold, and she was only wearing an oversized Chicago Bears jersey. “Can I come in?”

Jane stepped aside. “Sure.”

Lisbon walked into the room, brushing past Jane, and looked around. It looked tidy, but the bed didn’t look slept in. And Jane didn’t look as if she had just woken him up, even though he was only wearing a shirt and his trousers, no vest or jacket.

“Can’t sleep either?” she asked him.

“Nope,” he answered.

“Is the case keeping you up?” She had to bite back a laugh. Even on a night like this, she was ever the professional.

She counted on Jane to remark on it but all he said was, “Not necessarily.”

They stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, facing each other. Then Jane offered her to sit on his bed, and Lisbon sat down. He remained standing, looking unsure, so she told him he was more than welcome to join her.

He did.

“So why can’t you sleep?” he wanted to know. “Is it because of the case?”

“No … I … I don’t know.” She couldn’t give him the real reason, that she had been thinking about their discussion earlier because it would only lead to another fight. “I just can’t sleep. Insomnia, I guess.”

“Ah, Lisbon, I know it’s about more than that,” he said, his eyes sparkling. “You’ve come here for another debate on revenge.”

“I thought about it,” she admitted, “but no. Not tonight.”

Not on such an odd night, anyway. The light of the moon, even though it was shut out behind glass and layers of thick curtains, not touching her skin, itched her somehow.

“Huh,” Jane made.

There they were, sitting next to each other on Jane’s unused bed. Both were quiet, staring ahead at the floor, avoiding each other’s gaze. It was more awkward than Lisbon had thought it would be, and suddenly she wanted nothing more than be back in her own bed.

“You know what, this was a stupid idea. I’m going back to my room.” She started to stand up, but Jane gripped her wrist, his fingers closing around it softly.

“No, stay.”

She looked at him to find something in his eyes then that made her pause. She was on the verge of getting lost in them, when she realized how young he looked tonight, so much younger than she knew he was, untroubled somehow, as if the last eight years hadn’t happened to him. And suddenly she couldn’t think of a single reason why she should leave him.

“All right.” She relaxed as Jane let go of her arm.

They both needed something tonight, they needed the company. It was fine or it would be, even if they just sat like this, quietly on his bed. But Jane had other plans.

“Let’s put on some music,” he suggested. “It’s relaxing.”

He stood up and switched on a small radio that was standing next to the TV. Billie Holiday’s version of _Blue Moon_ started wafting through the motel room as he joined Lisbon on the bed again.

“Oh, I like that song,” Lisbon said with a beam.

He smiled at her softly. “I know.”

“Is there anything you don’t know about me?” Lisbon asked him. She had often wondered about this, but now she was in a safe environment to ask the question.

“Yes, lots of things.” He looked almost offended. “Even after all this time, you’re still a mystery to me.”

Lisbon laughed loudly because she didn’t believe him. “Says the man who’s psychic.”

“There’s no such –,” Jane started.

“– thing as psychics,” Lisbon finished the sentence for him. She had heard it often enough, after all. “I know. But you have to admit, I’m no mystery to you.”

“Oh, Lisbon, but you are.” He shifted around on the bed to get more comfortable, but it also brought him closer to her.

Lisbon also changed her position. She pulled her legs onto the bed and moved them, so she was sitting cross-legged. She didn’t care that she wasn’t wearing trousers and that her bare legs were very close to Jane’s left hand, which was casually resting on top of the covers.

“I only know the things you’ve chosen to reveal to me,” Jane went on.

“You knew I liked this song,” Lisbon reminded him, nodding at the radio that was still playing _Blue Moon_. “I never mentioned I liked Billie Holiday.”

“And I never said you revealed those things with words.” There was a wicked grin on Jane’s face as he said it.

Lisbon rolled her eyes, but she meant it playfully. “You’re impossible.”

“Just observant,” he said with a shrug as if it wasn’t a big thing.

“But when I say you’re a mystery to me, it’s the truth,” Lisbon pressed. She wasn’t as skilled at observation as he was. She really only knew what he had told her about himself.

“I’m a mystery to you?” he echoed.

“I cannot rely on my observational skills to find out stuff about you,” Lisbon explained. “I really need you to tell me things, and even them I’m not sure if you’re serious or not most of the time.”

Jane looked smug at hearing that. “I never knew you considered me to be a mystery.”

“Don’t look so pleased with yourself,” Lisbon reprimanded him, swatting his hand lightly, “it’s not necessarily a good thing. It drives me crazy most days.”

Jane, who was still smiling, lay down and looked up at the dark ceiling. His hands were folded behind his head. “Patrick Jane, mystery man,” he said quietly.

“Oh God,” Lisbon groaned, “I shouldn’t have said anything. You’re going to be insufferable, aren’t you?”

“I’m just flattered you would spare poor old me even a single thought.” Jane was looking at the ceiling as he said it, but Lisbon caught his eyes flickering to her.

“Well, you’ve crossed my mind once or twice,” she admitted, willing herself not to blush.

“Is that why you couldn’t sleep?” Jane wanted to know.

“Do you really need to ask?”

Lisbon blamed the moon for her answer. It was a weird night anyway. And it was highly unlikely they would remember those late-night confessions in the light of day. No one remember this kind of stuff.

“Oh, now I feel really flattered.” Jane turned, so he was lying on his side, his left hand supporting his head. “What were you thinking about?”

Lisbon shrugged. “Just … stuff.”

“What kind of _stuff_?” Jane pressed. The emphasis on the word _stuff_ was odd, almost … no, there was no chance he could mean it like that.

“Oh no, I won’t add more fuel to the fire,” Lisbon told him off. “Not interested, thank you.”

“Then I’ll offer you a trade … I haven’t been thinking about you,” Jane confessed.

Lisbon wasn’t sure if he was joking or not, but she decided to go along with it. “Oh, that’s just what a girl wants to hear,” she pointed out.

“I can’t be thinking about you, Teresa.”

There he was again, using her first name when the mood was _off_ , when the night was _quiet_ , when they were _intimate_ with each other, and it awakened this longing in her again, the one she only let herself feel when he was nowhere around, when she was vulnerable … or when she couldn’t sleep.

“That’s a dangerous path to walk down on,” he added.

Lisbon raised an eyebrow at him. The longing was still there, and she couldn’t ignore it. She felt drunk on the cold, crisp night air that was coming into the room through a window that stood open a tiny crack, she felt drunk on the ridiculousness of the case, drunk on the full moon.

“Is this my cue to feel flattered?” she asked.

Jane smiled one of his mysterious smiles before he lay back down again. “If you want.”

Lisbon looked down at him. Her longing was suddenly replaced by something much more. It crashed against her like a tidal wave, like a summer storm, like a force of nature she couldn’t control. She wanted this night to last forever. She wanted them to be together like this forever, with no fighting, no Red John, and no revenge dominating the conversation. Just two friends teasing each other, keeping each other company on a lonely night.

“ _Blue moon, you knew just what I was there for, you heard me saying a prayer for, someone I really could care for_.”

“This song has been going on forever, hasn’t it?” Lisbon asked, her fingers twitching to comb through Jane’s hair.

“Am I boring you?” he answered her question with a question.

Very softly, Lisbon answered, “No.”

“Do you know why they call it that? _Blue moon_?”

Lisbon was confused by the sudden change of topic, but it helped her to get the itch in her fingers under control. “Because it’s blue?”

A small huff of laughter escaped Jane’s lips. “No. I mean yes, it can be, but not necessarily,” he stammered. “It usually refers to the second full moon in a month, which doesn’t happen often. ‘Once in a blue moon’ … that means something occurs very rarely.”

She had known all that, but she still wasn’t closer to figuring out why he had brought it up in the first place. “Thanks, Professor Jane. Are you going somewhere with this?”

Jane looked curiously at her. “It’s about nights like this …,” he answered slowly. “We almost never experience a night like this, and we should cherish it.”

So she wasn’t the only one who had noticed there was something special about tonight, something that couldn’t be brought back once it had passed. “I am doing just that,” she informed him.

Jane’s smile vanished. “Why are you really here, Teresa?” he wanted to know.

She decided, for once, to be honest with him. This night allowed her to tell him what she felt because there were no consequences, because the sun which would rise in a few hours would erase everything that had happened between them.

“Because I cannot stop thinking about you,” she answered.

If her answer had surprised him, he didn’t let it show. “Is that a good thing?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Lisbon answered honestly. “Do you want it to be a good thing?”

“That depends …,” Jane answered diplomatically. “Are you thinking about how much you want to punch me? Because then my answer would have to be no.”

“Yes, I sometimes think about that,” Lisbon admitted with a small laugh. It was usually one of the first things that came to mind when she thought about Jane. “But not tonight.”

“What are you thinking about tonight?” Again, he didn’t display any emotions as he asked this. It was a simple question, similar to one he would ask a suspect in a case. Neutral, curious, but nothing more.

“That I needed to see you,” Lisbon answered honestly. It was what had brought her to his doorstep.

“To check up on me?” For the first time since they had started talking about this, his voice displayed an emotion – mistrust. “Make sure I’m not doing anything stupid, like helping suspects exact revenge?”

“Yes,” Lisbon admitted. The thought had crossed her mind, and it was part of the reason she had come over, but not all of it.

Jane nodded. “Huh.”

“And also,” Lisbon continued, and shrugged, “I just wanted to see you.” She knew it wasn’t much, but it was the truth.

“That’s lucky, because I wanted to see you, too.”

Jane was still lying on the bed, but he had stopped looking at the ceiling a while ago. He was now looking at Lisbon, his full attention on her, and she realized what he had been doing: He had made sure of her intentions and motives before revealing how he felt. And she had let him, wanting him to feel the same, needing to hear him say it. Now that she had confirmation, it was up to her to decide what to do with that information.

All she could do was blush. “You did?”

“Ah …”

“What?” she asked, suddenly feeling very vulnerable.

“I cherish every occasion I make the stoic Teresa Lisbon blush,” Jane answered.

“Stoic? Really? Do you want me to punch you tonight?” Her voice was much too soft for the threat to carry much meaning. And, sure enough, Jane wasn’t impressed by it.

“Lie down with me for a while.” He patted the bed next to him. “This way, you won’t have enough momentum to punch me."

With a warning in her voice, Lisbon said, “I’m an honest woman, Patrick Jane.” But she lay down beside him nevertheless, and because she was feeling brave and because tonight was a night like they would never experience again, she draped an arm across Jane’s chest.

Jane met Lisbon’s hand halfway and tangled their fingers together. His hand was warm, his grip firm, and she knew he wasn’t holding onto her to keep her there, but to ground her.

“I don’t know what you’re insinuating,” he said. His head was resting on its side now, so he could see Lisbon, could look into her tired eyes, could observe every micro-expression on her face.

 _“Blue moon, now I'm no longer alone, without a dream in my heart, without a love of my own_.”

“That song is playing on repeat, isn’t it?” Lisbon asked with a small sigh, moving her head so she was more comfortable. She, too, could look at Jane all she wanted, and there was nothing he could do about it, not when they were so close together and when he had been the one to invite her.

“Maybe …” Jane squeezed her hand.

Lisbon sighed and closed her eyes. When she realized how tired she felt and how quickly she would fall asleep if she stayed like this, she opened them again. “If I’m not careful I’ll fall asleep.”

Jane turned his gaze back to the ceiling. Lisbon could see the shadow of a stubble on his cheek. “I’ll make sure no werewolf can get to you,” he promised.

“What werewolf?” she asked, then yawned.

“Good night, Teresa.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: There is a blue moon this month: October 31.


End file.
